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THE PE IMJiOSE SERIES. 

Issued Semi-Monthly. 

SuBSCKiPTioN Price, $12.00 Per Year. 

No. 17.-MARCH 1, 1891. 

Copyrighted, 1891, hy Street d Smith. 

Entered at the Post-Office, New York, as Second-Class Matter, 


A Social Meteor. 


BY 


CLEMENT R MARLEY. 



NEW YORK: 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers. 

31 Roee Street. 

Ct 


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CONTENTS. 


Chapter. Page. 

I— A Letter of Inquiry 7 

II — Reading Characters 25 

III — Taken by Storm 41 

IV — Georgie Shocked 51 

V— A Pledge of Secrecy 59 

VI — At a New York Hotel 77 

VII— Mrs. Thorne Criticised 97 

VIII— Mr. Nelson m 

IX — Ray’s Good Conduct 127 

X — A Serious Conference 14 * 

XI — Georgie’s Ring 149 

XII— Georgie’s Farewell Note 166 

XIII — “Then We are Poor.” I 79 

XIV — A Strange Request 194 

XV— Peter’s Story 213 

XVI — Georgie’s I^etters 230 

XVII— Wily Mrs. Thorne 251 

XVIII— “Why Write Such a Note?” 262 

XIX — Lee and Ray in Naples 273 

XX — “You Shall Never See Me Again.” 284 

XXI— Tlie Future Which Is so Full of Hope 290 

XXII — A Quiet Wedding 296 



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/ 


A SOCIAL METEOR 


CHAPTER I. 

A LETTER OF INQUIRY. 

Philadelphia, November First. 

Dearest Georgie : — It is so long since I have 
either seen or heard from you that I am actually 
pining for a sight of your pretty face. So when 
can you accommodate me ? We returned from 
Europe three weeks ago, and are now settled for 
the winter, I trust, for I am sick and tired of trav- 
eling, and long to potter around my own house 
once more. 

This promises to be an unusually gay season 
here, and if you are as fond of “butterflying” (a 
word of my own) as you were before I went away, 
can I not prevail upon you to take pity upon a 
poor, unfortunate woman, whose husband posi- 
tively refuses to accompany her on her “giddy 
rounds,” and come to us, for a month or so? 

Don’t write me that you are grieving over your 
late affaire de coeur and' have given up society, 
hut come ; the sooner the better, and prepare to 
lose your heart all over again, to one of our “pet 
eligibles,” 


8 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


Telegraph, if possible, when I may expect you, 
and believe me always. Devotedly, 

Ray Thorne. 

Georgie Wheatley read this letter over twice, 
and then sat looking out of the window at the 
drizzling rain, with her hands clasped idly in her 
lap, and a thoughtful, almost sad expression on 
her face. 

“How foolish I am,’’ she said, finally, “how 
foolish I’ve been for a long time, and the sooner 
I tnm over a new leaf, the better it will be for 
me. I ought to have more pride than to be 
spending my days in grieving after a man who 
probably never even thinks of me now, and yet 
that’s exactly what I am doing. It’s high time 
I turned my thoughts into a different channel if 
I hope ever to respect myself again.” 

She rose and went to the mirror, w^here she 
surveyed herself, languidly, from head to foot. 
The image reflected there would be satisfactory 
to most girls, and probably have brought a smile 
of contentment to their lips, but the serious ex- 
pression did not leave her face, as she gazed. 

“I’m a trifle thin and pale just now, and the 
comers of my mouth turn down, instead of up, as 
they should, but a change of air and scene will 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


9 


help to remedy these defects. I think I’ll go to 
Ray’s. Anything will be better for me than sit- 
ting here, thinking, thinking all the time. And 
Aunt Margueret can spare me just now, she’s so 
busy with her orphans, that she won’t miss me 
very much. Yes, I’ll go, for a little while, any- 
way.” 

And she went to her desk and scribbled off a 
few words on a telegraph blank, just as the bell 
for luncheon sounded. 

Two days later she drove up to a fine house in 
Walnut street, Philadelphia, and was received 
with open arms by Mrs. Thome as she entered 
the hall. 

^T’m so delighted to see you, dear,” she ex- 
claimed, between her kisses, “you cannot imagine. 
But run up and take off your hat and jacket, and 
then come to my room, where we will make some 
tea a la Russe, which, I assure you, I can make 
to the queen’s taste. I learned the art, on the 
other side, from a Russian nobleman. It will 
refresh you, for you look pale and tired.” 

When Georgie found herself seated in front of 
a crackling wood fire, in the daintiest of dressing- 
rooms, with the tea-kettle singing merrily on the 
hearth, and the light of the declining day coming 


10 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


softly in between tbe heavy. plusb curtains, she 
felt distinctly better than she had for months. 

“Your tea is certainly delicious, Ray,” she said, 
as she placed her empty cup on the table. But 
she declined any more. 

Her hostess had thrown herself into a low 
lounging-chair, and was toying with a tiny, long- 
eared dog which had crept into her lap. She was 
a pretty little woman of about twenty-eight, with 
a pair of soft brown eyes, and a mass of bright 
yellow hair. Her complexion was heightened by 
the least suspicion of rouge. 

“Although it’s months since I last saw you, 
cherie,” she began, “you are as beautiful as ever, 
and no doubt are as bus37’ breaking hearts as you 
were then. But why don’t you marry ? Can’t 
you keep in love long enough ? I’m afraid you’re 
a little cruel, Georgie, if all accounts are true. I 
really pitied that poor Jack Nelson — he was so 
awfully ‘gone’; and then to be thrown over just 
like the rest, after six months of your fascinating 
society. Ah, well,” with a little sigh, “some day 
you may come across a man who will repay you 
for all this trifling of yours, and leave you to cry 
your pretty eyes out, while he rides gayly away. 
And Jack was so handsome, rich, and altogether 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


11 


desirable ; I know .you would Have been bappy 
with Him. Poor, poor fellow. I don’t suppose 
there’s any chance of your ever making up again, 
is there ? I hear all sorts of stories about him.” 

^‘Oh, no; we’ll never come together again,” 
replied Georgie. 

“Foolish little girl !” cried Mrs. Thome. “Re- 
member the story about the crooked stick. But 
after all, I suppose you know best, or think you 
do, and I’m not going to scold you. Only, as I 
say, it seems such a pity, as you were so well 
suited to each other. But to tell the truth, I 
never understood distinctly just what the trouble 
between you was. All sorts of rumors floated 
across the water to me. Suppose you rehearse 
your tale of ‘severed hearts’ to me, now, as it 
really happened. It won’t pain you, will it ? It’s 
so long ago, and it would be only just to set me 
right regarding the details, you know. Pardon 
me if I smoke a cigarette — another thing I learned 
to do in Russia. Or will you join me?” she con- 
tinued, taking one from a little silver case which 
hung by her side, and striking a match. 

Georgie shook her head. 

“Thanks, no,” she answered. “I’ve never lived 
in Russia, but I do not dislike the odor,” 


12 


A tlOCIAL METEOR, 


“Good. Now for your story — every word, please. 
I’m deeply interested, and want to hear it all,” 
said Ray, leaning back in her chair, while the 
dog, sickened by the smoke, retreated to the other 
side of the room. 

“Don’t ask me to go over it again, Ray,” re- 
plied Georgie, pleadingly, “it’s so old now, and I 
almost forget the ‘details,’ as you call them. I 
don’t like to refer to it. Let’s talk about some- 
thing else, please, your visit to St. Petersburg, for 
instance.” 

“No,” said Ray, “I can’t possibly let you off, 
because I really am anxious to know what caused 
you to change your mind. I heard so many ab- 
surd reports. You quarreled, didn’t you? I was 
told, among other things, that you demanded a 
settlement of twenty thousand to be made on 
your wedding-day, and he got angry, and called 
you a ‘mercenary little wretch.’ I didn’t suppose 
there was any truth in that, knowing you as well 
as I do. You would never have made such a 
foolish blunder.” 

“No, that was as ridiculous as the rest,” laughed 
Georgie. “We quarreled on account of jealousy, 
pure and simple.” 

“Ah^ that’s more like it. But go on — go on, 


A SOCIAL METkOU. 


13 


I don’t want to drag every word out of yon.” 

“It’s a very commonplace story, I assure yon. 
Still, if yon insist ” 

^^1 do insist, and remember wbat an old friend 
I am.” 

“Well, then, you know, for two months after I 
became engaged, I fairly lived in the clouds, for 
I loved Jack, and he was devoted to me. Besides, 
both families (that is. Aunt Margueret and his 
parents) approved so entirely of onr marrying, 
and society in general thought it such an excel- 
lent idea, for me, with my money, to take him 
with his splendid prospects, just the thing, in fact. 
So onr course of true love promised to run very 
smooth indeed.” 

“Yes, it was a case of ‘beauty and the boodle,’ 
as Charley said, when we first heard of it,” inter- 
rupted Mrs. Thome. 

“He didn’t restrict me in any way, and was so 
attentive — I had only to express a wish, and it 
was gratified ; he loaded me with the most beauti- 
ful presents, you remember some of them, per- 
haps. I often used to tell him that there would 
be nothing left to give me when we were married, 
but he always laughed, and said I would find 
something to long for, or I was no woman. 


14 


A ISOCIAL METEOn. 


“He allowed me to have as many men come to 
see me as before our engagement, and was never 
sulky when he found callers at the house, even 
on his especial evenings.” 

“What bliss,” exclaimed Ray, “what on earth 
did you find to quarrel about ?” 

“You’ll soon hear. At last, about three months 
before we were to have been married, a certain 
young Scotchman began to come to the house 
with one of Jack’s especial friends. He seemed 
to be a very nice little fellow, and every one liked 
him — except Jack ; he took a violent dislike to 
him almost immediately. Why it was, though, 
I never could find out, exactly. He said he was 
^airish,’ ^snobbish,’ and a ‘lady-killer,’ which I 
thought very unjust, and one day I told him so, 
pretty frankly. Then he got angry and said that 
perhaps he was a better judge of men than I was, 
and that he could see no reason why I should 
wish to have that little ‘bull-dog’ trotting after 
me all the time. I told him I was perfectly in- 
different as to whether Mr. St. John ever called 
on me again or not, only I thought he was acting 
foolishly to be jealous of the poor little fellow, 
who was in this country all alone, and who didn’t 
call on me oftener than any one else. 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


15 


“Then he got perfectly furious, and said, in the 
ugliest tone I had ever heard him use : 

“ Tossibly / ain foolish, but at any rate, I’m 
determined upon one thing, and that is, either 
that man stops coming here, or I do. Take your 
choice.’ 

“I looked at him to see if he was in earnest, 
his whole manner was so unlike Jack’s, and then, 
satisfied that he meant what he said, I drew my- 
self up, and said, as coldly as I could : 

“ ^You may leave the house at any time you 
may see fit, but unless you can give me a good 
reason why I should not see Mr. St. John when 
he comes to call like any one else, I decline to 
shut the door in his face. He visits your own 
house, why don’t you keep him out of that ? Cer- 
tainly you ought to be able to control things 
there, better than here, yet. When your mother 
refuses to receive him I will do the same, but not 
until then.’ 

“Without another word, and with his face scar- 
let with passion, he took his hat and left, and the 
following morning he sent me a note saying that 
4t was evident, from my treatment of him the day 
before, that my regard for him was very small, 
so in that case he thought we had better part.’ 


16 


A SOCIAL METEOn, 


Until then I had hoped he would sleep off his 
anger and write me a penitent letter, but this 
staggered me.” 

“The prig!” ejaculated Ray. 

“My maid said the man was waiting at the 
door for an answer, and knowing that I must 
show something of my state of mind in my face, 
I told her to go down stairs and tell him I would 
send it. 

“Then I flew to my bureau and gathered to- 
gether all the things Jack had ever given me, 
excepting one little ring, and made them hastily 
into a package, and after a few tears — just a few, 
for it seemed like parting with old friends — I sent 
them to him with a note. He had given me a 
dog, ‘Snap,’ you remember, but I was too much 
attached to the little animal to give him back, 
and fortunately he didn’t ask for him. 

“That evening I danced at a ball, but my face 
was as white as my dress, and my heart was 
aching cruelly ; still, I was too proud to give up, 
and I kept laughing and chatting incessantly, so 
that no one could get a chance to remark upon 
Jack’s absence, to me. The next day I heard 
that he had gone to Washington, where he staid 
two or three weeks. Then the tongues began to 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


17 


wag, and in two days’ time everybody had some 
kind of a story to tell about the affair, and it’s 
needless, perhaps, to assure yon that none of 
them contained a grain of truth, and scarcely any 
two were alike. But I kept my lips tight to- 
gether and let them talk, much to the despair of 
some of the old gossips, who actually had the 
audacity to call at the house, or write to me, ask- 
ing what the real reason for our separation was. 
Of course, I paid no attention to these imperti- 
nences, and even poor, dear old Aunt Margueret 
heard very little from me, and, as is sometimes 
the case, she questioned me less than anybody, 
but thoughtfully left me to myself for weeks, to 
‘live it down,’ as she expressed it. She allowed 
those people only to see me who she knew would 
tend to take my mind off my trouble, and not 
seek to gratify an idle curiosity, and in this way 
my grief before a great while gave place to a 
feeling that my ex-fiance had treated me very 
shabbily, and that he wasn’t worth regretting. 

“Strange to say, as soon as he returned, he 
came directly to me and begged me to make if 
up with him, and renew our engagement. But 
then it was my turn, and much as I knew I loved 
him, even yet, I felt that he had behaved too 


18 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


badly to be forgiven at once. So I told him I 
wouldnh promise anything for a year. Of course 
he pleaded with me and said he could not live 
without me, etc., etc., but I was firm, and told 
him that even if I was willing to take him back 
immediately. Aunt Margueret would not consent 
to it, as she was very much disgusted with him. 
So he agreed to wait. 

“Well, to make a long story a little shorter, 
we met after this, quite frequently, at the house 
of a mutual friend of ours, and pretty soon I 
found myself looking forward to the end of that 
year with as much eagerness as if I had not im- 
posed the probation myself But’’ — hurriedly — 
“you know how unsatisfactory arrangements of 
that kind are apt to be; we could not meet 
openly, and other men, not knowing the state of 
affairs, began to pay me attention, which caused 
more trouble between us, and so, we have gradu- 
ally drifted apart. It’s a year now since I have 
even seen him.” 

Her last sentence was delivered slowly, and 
with her eyes fixed on the fire. 

Ray leaned toward her. 

“Do you love him still, in spite of all ?” she 
asked, softly. 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


19 


Georgie turned quickly, and looking her friend 
calmly in the face, replied, coldly : 

have no other feeling for him now, than one 
of utter contempt. At first, when he began to 
neglect me after our reconciliation, I think I 
hated him, and I know I hated myself for being 
weak enough to listen to his excuses and meekly 
submit to his fault-finding when other men dared 
to send me bouquets, or take me to the play, but 
after that my heart seemed to gradually freeze 
up, and now I don’t think I should be moved if 
I were to hear that he was dead — or married. 

“What fools we women are, anyway,” she con- 
tinued, clasping her knee with her hands, and 
with her gaze still on the fire. “We lie down 
and let a man trample on us, when we love him, 
and then, instead of looking for it as a natural 
result, we are surprised when he leaves us and 
seeks ‘green fields.’ It’s a strange world, isn’t 
it ? And we all need experience to knock a little 
common sense into our heads. Well, I’ve had 
my lesson ; no other man shall have the oppor- 
tunity of making a fool of me. I’m beginning 
to believe that the less one permits one’s self to 
feel, the better off one is. It doesn’t seem to be 
of any use to be patient or faithful ; every one 


20 


A tVCIAL METEOR. 


laughs at, or worse still, pities you. It only pays 
to amuse one’s self.” 

“Wisely spoken, ma chere,” nodded Ray, blow- 
ing a cloud of smoke into the air and watching it 
fade away. “The world, or rather the people in 
it, are a queer lot, and the sooner we learn to live 
only for our own selfish gratification, the better 
off we are. Xaugh and the world laughs with 
you’ is just as true to-day as it was a hundred 
years ago, and will be a hundred years hence. 
The time has gone by when women wait upon 
their lords’ pleasure like penny dogs. And why ? 
Because that sort of thing isn’t appreciated any 
more. Men run after women nowadays who will 
amuse and flatter them, and the ones who lack 
originality may just as well make up their minds 
first, as last, to go to the wall. Trample upon 
every one who stands between you and your de- 
sires, is the motto of to-day ; only do it with a 
smiling face, so that no one will believe you are 
cruel. 

“People may frown upon a woman who goes to 
greater lengths to attract men than they consider 
^nice’; but what of it? In spite of them she 
flourishes. She is the one around whom all the 
men crowd in the ball-room, and it is she whom 


A SOCIAL METLOR. 


21 


they invite to their ^select dinners’ and cham- 
pagne suppers, while her demure sisters stay at 
home and talk. You see blushes have given 
place to rouge, and the spirituelle to the chic, I 
don’t say it’s right ; I only state a fact, and such 
as it is, every mondaine is bound to observe it, if 
she wishes to succeed. Yes, it is a strange place, 
and yet a woman, if she knows a thing or two, 
can have a good time in it. She can eat her own 
cake, and get that of most people, as well, if she 
only asks for it prettily, and eats it daintily, with- 
out soiling her fingers, or getting laughed at for 
being clumsy.” 

She paused a moment, and then continued, 
more gently : 

“But, I don’t mean to say that there aren’t 
exceptions to this rule, for I certainly believe 
that there are men who can appreciate devotion 
and sincerity on the part of a woman, and who 
can never supply the place of a lost loved one — 
only I haven’t come across any yet. And your 
Jack may be of this character. He may come 
back to you again, penitent and adoring, I don’t 
know. I can form no idea of what took him 
away, to begin with. He surely could not have 
tired of you — he would be a fool in that case. But 


22 


A jSociaz meteor. 


men are so easily bored nowadays (especially 
with devotion), that one never can tell ; their 
tastes are vitiated; they like change; and we 
should be prepared to follow suit the moment 
they begin to show signs of ‘falling off.’ Re- 
member the old saw about the ‘fish in the sea,’ 
and live up to it. 

“Forgive this long speech, my dear, and don’t 
think me heartless. But I am older than you are, 
and am only telling you what my experience has 
been. If you haven’t lived long enough to see as 
I do, forget every word I’ve spoken ; but if you 
are willing to be guided by me a little, and so 
save yourself lots of trouble, begin by banishing 
the cause of your late unhappiness* from your 
mind and let us see what we can do for you here.” 

“I told you I had banished him from my mind,” 
replied Georgie. 

“And you never think of him now ?” 

“No.” 

“Jamais ?” — half doubtingly. 

“Jamais,” decidedly. “I have put him aside as I 
did my dolls when I outgrew them.” 

“I put my dolls away too, in a dark closet, and 
forgot all about them,” pursued Ray; “but last 
year, when I was staying at mamma’s, I accident- 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


23 


ally came across one I used to call ‘Dottie/ and 
would you believe it ? all the old affection for Her 
came back to me. I took her in my arms and 
cried over her, actually.’’ 

“Was she in good condition ?” asked Georgie, 
quickly. 

“Mercy, no I Sbe was dreadfully dilapidated ; 
she had only one arm, no legs, and if I remember 
correctly, one side of her face was smashed in, 
poor dear. Her curls, too — those lovely golden 
ringlets which had been my pride and delight — 
were quite moth-eaten. And yet I had loved her 
so that even then, grown woman that I was, I 
could not help being moved by the sight of her.” 

“And therein lies the difference between ‘Dottie’ 
and Jack,” answered Georgie; “she was your com- 
panion, until you discarded her, and then, when 
you found her again, she may have been battered 
out of all recognition, but it was by your childish 
hands. One half of her face may have been gone, 
but the other half smiled at you just as tenderly 
as ever, did it not ? Jack left me voluntarily, 
without the slightest reason that I ever could dis- 
cover, and I never wish to see him again. Yet, I 
dare say, if he were in trouble and called on me 
to aid him I would not refuse. That sounds weak, 


24 


A SOCIAL METEOB. 


doesn’t it ? But I could not help it. I loved him 
once, and although that love is dead, I will always 
have a feeling for him which I could not explain 
— a sort of — of ’’ 

“I know, a sort of a ye ne sais quoi^ ” finished 
Ray, energetically. “But wait, my dear,” she went 
on, “until you’ve seen some of our men. I don’t 
mean to be conceited, but I flatter myself we’ve 
got some very nice ones here.” 

Georgie shook her head, smilingly. 

“I don’t doubt that in the least,” she conceded, 
“but nevertheless, I’d rather you wouldn’t make 
up your mind to pair me off with any of them, for 
you would only be disappointed.” 

“I don’t think I would,” returned Ray. “Once 
I make up my mind to do a thing I generally do 
it. But don’t be frightened, sweetheart, I won’t 
disgust you by throwing any of our ‘catches’ at 
your head. Far from it. Whatever plans I lay 
for your future happiness I shall keep to myself, 
and you won’t know anything about, it until 
you’re trapped.” 


A SOCIAL ME2E0R. 


25 


CHAPTER 11. 

READING CHARACTERS. 

The following day Mrs. Thorne gave a large 
dinner party to her most intimate friends in honor 
of her guest. 

‘‘I’m going to seat you next to a man to- 
night whom half the girls in town are after,” 
she said, as she gave the finishing touches to 
Georgie’s toilet just before they went down stairs, 
“ and my opinion is, that he will be very hard to 
please if he does not fall in love with you at first 
sight,” and she looked admiringly at the slight, 
graceful figure beside her. 

Georgie was dressed in a light blue gown, of 
some delicate, fleecy material, embroidered with 
silver, which swept far behind her on the carpet. 
Her neck and arms were bare, and her dark hair 
was gathered in a Grecian knot at the back of 
her shapely head. There was an unusual color 
in her cheeks, and a bright sparkle in her eyes, 
due no doubt to the exertion of dressing. 

She had seen her twenty-second birthday, but 
she looked fully five years younger, as she stood 
beside her hostess laughing and chatting. Her 


26 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


movements were quick and graceful and her 
voice had the merry, frank ring of a child’s. 

“ Lee is late, as usual,” remarked Ray, a little 
pettishly when the hands of the clock pointed to 
five minutes after eight. " “ The dinner will be 
ruined in a little while and it always provokes 
Charley so, to keep him waiting. Ah, here he 
comes, at last,” as a tall, fine-looking man entered 
the room and came toward them. “We were just 
wondering if you would be unkind enough to 
disappoint us this evening.” Then turning to 
her companion, “ Georgie, my dear, permit me to 
introduce Mr. Grant. I expect you and Miss 
Wheatley to be great friends, Lee.” 

Mr. Grant was a large, well-shaped man of 
about thirty-five, with strength stamped on every 
line of his face and figure. His features, though 
a trifle too heavy for perfect beauty, perhaps, 
were good in outline, and refined, particularly his 
mouth. He was clean-shaven, and when he 
smiled, showed to advantage a set of splendid 
teeth. 

After a little conversation Georgie decided that 
she was going to like him, and she certainly con- 
sidered him one of the most striking-looking men 
she had ever seen. He possessed a peculiar charm 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


27 


of manner whicli few women could resist, and 
this she soon discovered. 

A few moments later the dining-room doors 
were thrown open and dinner was announced. 
Everything had an air of profuse, open-handed 
hospitality and showed that the host and hostess 
intended to regale their guests royally. 

A crystal chandelier threw its soft light over 
everything, and a faint odor of violets pervaded 
the room. There was a dainty rustle of silks 
and laces as the ladies took their seats. 

It was evident before long that Mr. Grant was 
very much attracted by his fair neighbor, and as 
the evening advanced, this favorable impression 
seemed to deepen, for he had eyes for no one 
else. 

He tried to illustrate to her the advantages club 
life in Philadelphia possessed over club life in 
other parts of the world ; he gave her descriptions 
of the winter sports there; of his horses and 
dogs ; everything and anything, looking at her 
all the time, with admiration written on every line 
of his face. 

Georgie, on her part, appeared to be pleased 
with his attentions, and although she now and 
then made a remark to her right hand neighbor, 


28 


A SOCIAL METEOK 


a young naval officer named Alexander, most of 
her conversation was addressed to Mr. Grant, 
and in a short time they began to feel like old 
friends. 

Lee was full of plans for amusements to be 
carried out during her stay in town. 

“Now I think a drive to C — , about an hour out 
by the straight road, would not be a bad idea,” he 
said as he cracked her almonds at dessert. “We 
could go on my drag and get there in time for 
luncheon and be back again before sundown. 
Almost any day convenient for you would suit 
me, that is, if you would like to go.” 

“Oh, I should enjoy it above all things,” she 
replied, “if Ray can only arrange it.” 

“I think we can count upon Mrs. Thorne,” 
returned Lee, “for she is very fond of driving 
four-in-hand.” 

And so it turned out, for Ray expressed her- 
self as not only willing, but eager to go, and 
insisted upon at once making up a little party to 
accompany them, and setting the day. 

The following Thursday was agreed upon, and 
it dawned bright and clear. They set out about 
eleven o’clock, Lee occupying the box-seat with 
Miss Wheatley beside him. 


A SOCIAL METEOM. 


29 


As they drove along Georgie felt her spirits 
gradually rising, in this genial company, and 
before they had finished the first mile she had 
cast all sad thoughts behind her and was posi- 
tively gay. She must, indeed, have been of a 
very gloomy temperament, had she not been 
influenced by her present surroundings. Every- 
body was merry, and she herself occupied the 
seat of honor, beside the driver, who every little 
while looked down at her, in that tender, protect- 
ing fashion, which is so natural to men of the 
world. They arrived at their destination, a com- 
fortable looking country hotel, about noon, and 
lost no time in attacking the delicious lunch 
awaiting them. 

^‘No doubt these chickens were taking their 
last cackle, as we came around the turn,’’ re- 
marked Archie Young, the self-elected wit of the 
party, as he plunged the carving fork into the 
breast of a steaming fowl. There was a chorus 
of “ohs ” from the ladies at this rather question- 
able speech, but it did not seem to impair their 
appetites, for their drive in the crisp, chilly air 
had made them very hungry, and they did full 
justice to everything set before them. The meal 
was served in a private parlor, and by Mr. Grant’s 


30 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


own men, so they laughed and chatted as much 
and as loudly as they chose, without the fear of 
being criticised by outsiders. The popping of the 
champagne corks made an excellent accom- 
paniment for the bright sparkling laughter which 
went round the table. It certainly was a jolly 
party, and Ray had shown much tact in her 
selection of individuals, for there apparently was 
not an unsociable one among them. 

When they had finished, the ladies gathered 
around the big old fashioned fire-place, and told 
stories or repeated stray bits of gossip while the 
men strolled off to look at the horses or have a 
game of billiards. 

Toward the end of the afternoon some one pro- 
duced a pack of cards and proposed poker, which 
suggestion was met by four or five, with instant 
and loud approval. So a small table was cleared, 
and with beans in lieu of chips, the game was 
commenced. 

Ray, rather to Georgie’s surprise, took a hand, 
and at first luck favored her singularly; she 
seemed unaWe to • lose, though she made the 
most daring draws. 

“I shall certainly pity you, my poor Clarence, 
when you have to cash all these miserable little 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


31 


beans,’’ she cried merrily, to the banker, picking 
up a handful and letting them fall noisily back 
into her lap. 

“They represent many a good dollar. I shall 
be able to treat myself to something very nice if 
this continues.” But it did not continue; she 
soon began to lose, and before long was reduced 
to her last cent. Then she bought more with the 
same result ; they seemed to fairly melt away. 
She was in despair, and finally resorted to all the 
silly little tricks so universally believed in by 
superstitious players as a means to tempt the 
goddess of fortune, but all in vain. Luck had 
deserted her. 

Pretty soon an ugly frown appeared on her 
forehead and an angry flush dyed her cheeks. 

The climax was reached, however, when Mrs. 
Wolcott, one of her most intimate friends, laugh- 
ingly accused her of holding six cards at once. 
She sprang up from the table in a rage and threw 
down her hand, crying that she would no longer 
play with such a “pack of cheats.” 

It took ijhe combined efforts of all the party to 
smooth her ruffled plumage and convince her 
that none of them had believed for an instant, 
that she had intended to deal unfairly. But 


32 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


when she was restored to good humor she smiled 
sweetly on everybody, and showed plainly that 
she bore no malice toward any one. 

When the horses came around to the door Ray 
acted as if she would like to occupy the box-seat, 
going home, but before she could express herself 
to that effect, Lee had swung Georgie into it, and 
helped her up to the one behind. 

They started off amid the barking of dogs, and 
the kindly ‘‘good-bys ” of the hotel-keeper and 
his buxom wife, who stood in the door-way waving 
napkins after them until they were out of sight 
around the corner. 

It had grown chilly since noon, and wraps 
were in demand. 

A sharp wind had risen, and the sun had that 
cold, blurred appearance which it sometimes 
assumes in late fall. The flinty roads rang out 
loud and clear under the hoof-beats of the horses 
as they dashed along by field and grove, and now 
and then a flock of sheep, huddling instinctively 
together in an open barn-yard, gazed at them 
with frightened eyes, or uttered melancholy 
bleats, as they passed, followed by clouds of dust. 
The tall shocks of corn standing brown and stiff, 


A jSOCIAL meteor. 


$3 


in the midst of the bare fields, looked like monu- 
ments raised to the dead summer. 

Lee was at first obliged to give his entire atten- 
tion to the horses, which, knowing that their 
noses were pointed toward home, were pulling 
with unusual vigor. 

When he had succeeded in calming them down 
somewhat, he turned to Georgie, and after tuck- 
ing the lap robe well around her, asked her if 
she had enjoyed herself. 

“It has been one of the j oiliest days I ever 
spent,’’ she answered. “Everything turned out 
well and every one seemed to be so happy.” 

“About the only disagreeable feature of the day 
was the little tiff between Mrs. Thorne and Mrs. 
Wolcott, during that game of cards,” said he^ 
“but fortunately it did not amount to much. Mrs. 
Thome got angry and said some things which 
made a bad feeling for a little while, but it soon 
blew over, and won’t be remembered against her 
by any one. They all know her, and always 
make allowances for her little peculiarities. Still, 
such misunderstandings are very unpleasant, and 
often make no end of trouble. I didn’t approve 
of the cards in the first place to-day, and begged 
two or three of the fellows not to propose any 


34 


A SOCIAI MFTHOR 


kind of a game for money, for when people play 
in a hurry they cannot keep their wits about 
them. Now Mrs. Thorne isn’t the best hand at 
poker in the world, and yet she’s wild over it, 
especially when she is winning. But when luck 
is against her she sometimes gets — well, almost 
snappish, as you saw to-day.” 

•‘I know she does,” replied Georgie; ‘‘she 
always was quick-tempered. Even as a child 
I remember she usually made a pretty desperate 
struggle for her own way.” 

“And if she did not get it she would cry, eh ?” 
asked Lee. 

“Yes, generally,” replied Georgie, smiling, 
“and I’ve known her to scratch or bite, occasion- 
ally.” 

“Well, she does that still, only her nails are 
longer now and make deeper wounds,” observed 
Lee. 

“She does not mean any harm by it, for she’s 
the most generous, whole-souled woman I ever 
knew,” returned Georgie. 

“Perhaps not. But at the same time she ought 
to try to exercise some kind of control over her- 
self,” declared Lee ; “as a general thing her owm 
friends will give in, as I say, rather than have a 


.4 SOCIAL METEOR. 


35 


fuss with her, and be struck off her visiting list 
or left out of her entertainments. But once in a 
while she comes across a person who is willing to 
‘fight it out’ with her, and then the fur flies, I 
tell you.” 

“Yes, I can imagine it,” said Georgie. “It 
certainly is a great pity she doesn’t try to over- 
come such a serious fault, for her own sake ; it 
must give people, who don’t know her, a very bad 
opinion of her.” 

“It does. But she doesn’t stop to think of 
that ; willful people seldom do. The worst of it 
is,” Lee went on, “that it makes no difference 
where she is ; if she thinks she has reason to be 
angry, she flies right out into a terrible passion 
and abuses the offender roundly, perfectly indif- 
ferent as to who may be listening to her.” 

“Well, that’s her only bad fault,” answered 
Georgie, stanchly. 

Lee shrugged his shoulders and snapped his 
whip over the head of one of the leaders as he 
made a sudden plunge, before he spoke again. 
Then he said : 

“Well, it’s a dused nasty one, and it wouldn’t 
be tolerated if she had less money or position. 


36 


A tVCIAL METEOR, 


As it is, she can do pretty nearly as she likes, 
and she knows it.” 

‘‘Oh, no, I’m sure you’re mistaken,” uttered 
Georgie. “People would love her for herself, for 
she’s certainly one of the brightest little creatures 
I ever saw and can do things no one else would 
dare to do. She reminds me of a beautiful butter- 
fly.” 

“Or a bee with a good-sized sting.” 

She laughed. 

“Well,” he continued, “I suppose it isn’t in 
very good taste for me to speak of the faults of 
your hostess and my guest, to you, for she’s very 
charming notwithstanding, and I wouldn’t have 
done it, had she not made trouble to-day. I was 
a little put out, so please pardon me. But,” in 
a different tone, “what do you think of these 
people ? ” 

“They seem very nice, and are certainly very 
jolly,” replied Georgie. 

“Yes, they are jolly,” said Lee, “but they go 
everywhere and every one likes them. They are 
Mrs. Thorne’s particular set, you know, and 
when she’s with them she does and says about 
what she pleases. I believe that is the reason she 
likes them so much.” 


A SOCIAL MBTJiOB. 


37 


“Well, Ray never could endure monotony,’^ 
returned Georgie, “and since her return from the 
other side she seems to be fonder of life than 
ever. She’s always on the go. Living in Europe 
has given her some rather queer ideas, I 
think.” 

“Yes, I know them,” remarked Lee, nodding 
his head. “They’re enough to knock the ro- 
mance out of any young person. She ought to 
keep them to herself. Talk is cheap, and like 
other valueless articles often does harm. I hope 
you were not influenced by her sentiments. She 
is a thorough woman of the world, and her 
knowledge of it is no doubt the cause of her 
peculiar views. She has learned to trust very 
little that she sees. We all get skeptical as we 
grow older, it’s perfectly natural, and our childish 
trust in each other vanishes after a few hard hits. 
But I don’t see the use of opening other people’s 
eyes to the wickedness of the world ; I think it’s 
a mistaken kindness, for that’s one of the things, 
it seems to me, which it is better to find out for 
ourselves. Heaven knows we all do it soon 
enough. As for you, though,” smiling down at 
her, “I don’t think you’ll need the benefit of any- 
body’s experience; you’ll profit by your own, 


38 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


from day to day, and not become either discour 
aged or hardened.’’ 

‘What do you mean ? Have you formed an 
idea of my character already? ” asked Georgie. 

“A little^” he answered, frankly. 

‘Well, and what have you discovered ? ” 

“One or two things.” 

“What are they ? ” 

“First, that you’re rather reserved, and unlike 
most women, generally think before you speak.” 

“I am ‘cold and calculating’ then ? ” she 
laughed. 

“Not at all. I think you’re capable of a good 
deal of feeling, but would be able to conceal it, if 
you thought best. In other words, you don’t 
wear your heart on your sleeve.” 

“You believe I could have a sorrow at heart 
and no one suspect it ? ” inquired Georgie. 

“I think so — yes, you have a romantic face and 
the most wonderful eyes I ever saw, so deep and 
clear. I can imagine them shedding tears in the 
privacy of your own room, or lighting up with 
love, but never blazing with passion.” 

“And yet, I’ve a fine temper of my own,” 
observed Georgie. 

“Possibly,” admitted Fee, “but you wouldn’t 


A JSOCIAZ MZTZOB. 


show your anger in your eyes ; they would merely 
take a grieved expression.’^ 

“What nonsense ; but go on; what else do yon 
think about me ? ” 

“Well,” he continued, “I believe you could mix 
with gay society like this crowd, for instance, all 
your life, and not get to be like them. You’re 
too level headed.” 

“Oh, you’re very flattering, and perhaps you’re 
mistaken,” she replied. “I don’t approve of all 
I’ve seen done to-day, but I cannot say I see any 
great harm in it either. They only try to kill 
time when they find it hangs heavy on their 
hands. I never have cared to play cards, for 
instance, but it isn’t because I disapprove of them. 
Now if I was suffering from ennui as Ray and 
her friends claim to do, so often, I might do as 
they do too.” 

He shook his head thoughtfully. 

“I hope you’ll never be tempted,” he said, 
earnestly. “A taste for gambling or for stimu- 
lants in a man is bad enough, but I should hate 
to see a woman I cared for and respected having 
recourse to them to kill time.” 

Just then a gay voice behind them called out: 
“Listen, you two. It has been proposed by our 


40 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


good friend Mrs. Reed here that we dine with 
her to-night instead of at our respective homes. 
How does the suggestion strike yon 

It struck them favorably, and in a few minutes 
they were rattling down Walnut street. 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


41 


CHAPTER III. 

TAKEN BY STORM. 

Mrs. Thorne had just returned from her morn- 
ing ride in the park. She had enjoyed herself 
highly, and now, flushed and rosy from the exhil- 
arating exercise, she was about to sit down to a 
light luncheon in her own room before taking her 
usual nap. 

She was passionately fond of riding. Of an 
indolent and idle temperament naturally, she 
would rise at any hour, in any weather, to take a 
gallop with some congenial friend. * But she 
would never go alone, declaring that she could 
not endure her own society for so long a time. 

She found her chop delicious and her eggs, a la 
Turc.^ exactly to her taste. Annette was just lay- 
ing out the loose gown in which madam gener- 
ally took her siesta w^hen Joseph, the butler, 
rapped at the door. 

“What can the stupid fellow want ?” exclaimed 
Mrs. Thome, crossly. “He knows well enough 


42 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


he isn’t to disturb me at this hour. But see what 
he’s after, Annette.” 

“He says Mr. Grant is down stairs, madam,” 
answered the girl, a moment later, “and would 
like to see you.” 

“Oh, bother! What a nuisance — and I’m 
frightfully tired, too. However, tell him I’ll be 
there presently.” 

She looked in the glass two or three times to 
make sure that she was presentable, and then ran 
lightly down the stairs. 

“Good-morning, Lee,” she said. “You’ll ex- 
cuse my appearing in my habit, I hope, but I just 
got in from my ride, and hadn’t time to change 
it.” 

“You look as charming as usual,” returned 
Lee. “But I am afraid I disturbed you — you take 
a nap at this hour, don’t you ?” 

“Yes, but there’s plenty of time for that. Sit 
down, and we can have a little chat. Pray where 
have you been keeping yourself — I haven’t seen 
you since Thursday and this is Monday ?” 

“I only got back from New York this morning; 
I’ve been spending Sunday with Jimmy French. 
But really, I wouldn’t interfere with your ‘beauty 
sleep’ for anything in the world. In fact, I only 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


43 


Stepped in to find out if yon and Miss Wheatley 
are going to Mrs. Lindley’s reception this after- 
noon. I thought if you were she might enjoy a 
little drive through the park first. 

“Oh, I know she’ll be delighted,” replied Mrs. 
Thorne, “only, unfortunately, she’s quite ill with 
a headache. She’s been suffering all the morn- 
ing, and I believe she’s asleep now ; still. I’ll send 
right up stairs and see if she feels equal to dress- 
ing.” 

“Indeed, I won’t hear of your doing anything 
of the kind,” answered Lee, earnestly. “Let her 
rest, and I’ll call again to-morrow. I don’t sup- 
pose she’ll go to the reception then ?” 

“I hardly think she will. You see, she’s been 
on the go so much since she’s been with us that 
she’s fairly worn out, I do believe.” 

' “I haven’t a doubt of it. Everybody is singing 
her praise, and half the fellows at the club have 
lost their hearts already.” 

“Ah !” 

This exclamation was deli\ered in a quizzical 
tone, and accompanied by a comical little side 
glance. 

“Yes, I assure you, Ray, your visitor has 
brought you in splendid returns, if appreciation 


€4 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


can be called by sucb a name. She has actually 
made a sensation here in this critical old town.’’ 

“That is gratifying, I am sure. But tell me, 
is there any one particularly smitten, as far as 
you know ? Any one worth while, I mean.” 

“Oh, yes, several. Jasper Hughes is horribly 
gone, and poor little Valie Beech glares at any 
man who dares to ask her to dance. I saw him 
standing in the door-way at Mrs. Foster’s last 
week, twisting his mustache and looking daggers 
at young Bellman, when she favored him in the 
cotillon. Afterward he went out, and you never 
heard such uncomplimentary names as he called 
poor Bellman. It was really very amusing.” 

“Good I” laughed Ray. “I thought she would 
take.” 

“Well, she has — taken by storm.” 

“What a melancholy tone, my boy ! Come now, 
tell me. What do you think of her ?” 

“That she’s charming, of course.” 

“Only that ! Aren’t you un peu epris?'*'' pur- 
sued Mrs. Thome gayly, “as well as the others ?” 

“Do you suppose I’m such a fool !” said Lee, 
seriously, “as to sow -where there is not the least 
chance of my ever reaping ? Oh, no. I’ve lived 
^ few too many year§ for that, I baye learned to 


A SOCIAL METEOH. 


45 


admire at a distance without coveting ; to be able 
to look and not to touch.” 

Mrs. Thorne sprang up suddenly, with an en- 
ergy quite unusual to her. 

“Well, as true as I live !” she exclaimed. “I do 
believe you are falling in love with her.” 

“I assure you, Ray, you were never more mis- 
taken in your life. I ” 

She interrupted him by placing both hands on 
his shoulders and forcing him to meet her merry 
eyes. 

“Look here, Lee,” she said, “remember how 
many years I’ve had the pleasure of your ac- 
quaintance — how often you’ve confided in me 
before now; tell me whether I haven’t always 
advised you to the best of my ability, and then 
answer one question. Aren’t you ashamed of 
yourself for trying to deceive me with a wicked 
fib like that ? Pshaw ! I thought you had more 
principle.” 

“At least give me credit for a little sense, Ray,” 
retorted Lee, almost angrily. “Am I, do you 
think, the sort of man to succumb to any woman, 
after seeing her only a dozen times ? I like and 
admire Miss Wheatly immensely, I acknowledge. 


46 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


my dear little woman, but love is too serious a 
feeling to be talked of so lightly.” 

^‘Love is delightful,” observed Ray, with the 
air of a sage, “and ‘comes like a summer sigh.’ ” 

“Much you know about it, you pious little 
fraud I Certainly the sentiments you entertain 
toward that precious husband of yours can 
scarcely be dignified by so sacred a name.” 

“No, it’s true my ‘better half’ is scarcely the 
sort of person to inspire grande passion^ but I 
can imagine what it must be like. Ah, I am sure 
it is bliss.” 

“No doubt, and yet it causes a sight of unhap- 
piness, sometimes. But joking aside, Ray, is 
there any one in whom Miss Wheatley is partic- 
ularly interested just now ?” 

“I thought you’d come around. Do you really 
wish to know ? Well, then. I’ll tell you what I 
honestly think. I think she fancies you much 
more than she does any one she has met here.” 

Mr. Grant’s whole face lighted up with pleasure, 
but he was blissfully unconscious of the fact. 

“But how about anywhere else ? I heard ” 

“Yes, no doubt you heard all about her re- 
cent engagement. Disagreeable news travels fast. 
Who told you ? Some one. I’ll warrant, who did 


A SOCIAL MJSl'AVB. 


47 


not hesitate to embellish the story. Still, I’ll tell 
you ; you may make your mind easy on that score, 
Cette affaire est finie,, and she is perfectly heart 
whole once more.” 

“And yet a woman with a past ” began Lee, 

musingly. 

“Oh, so you are thinking seriously of her, are 
you ?” interrupted Ray, mischievously, with a side 
glance at him. “Well, actually, I’m delighted ; I 
mean to turn match-maker ; it will be lots of fun 
for me, and give me an object in life. Something 
I haven’t had, by the way, for an age.” 

“I was merely going to say,” resumed Lee, 
“that a woman with a past seldom makes a desir- 
able wife.” 

contraire,^ mon cher^'^ replied Ray, quickly. 
“She makes the very best ; she knows how to 
treat you better than an ingenue would, and she 
is not half so apt to be fickle. Oh, I know you 
will suit each other admirably, and how I shall 
scheme and work to throw you together I Dear 
me, it’s time you were married, anyway, Lee, you 
must be nearly thirty-five, and the first thing we 
know you will be snatched up bodily by some de- 
signing widow or old maid, and society will be 
left to mourn its loss. So I am going to take you 


48 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


in hand and see that you are properly settled, and 
upon my word I believe Georgie is just the girl 
for you.” 

“Don’t make too many plans, or I’m afraid 
you’ll be disappointed in the end,” uttered Lee, 
laughingly. 

“No, I shall not. Why should I ? You’re as 
handsome a man as one sees in a month of Sun- 
days, and you know how attractive she is without 
my telling you. And then, man cher^ think of 
the attraction of your worldly goods.” 

“Lee’s expression changed suddenly. 

“If I thought,” said he, “that what I possess 
would be the least factor in the case I should not 
take the trouble to walk across the room to speak 
to her.” 

“That would make no difference with Georgie,” 
exclaimed Ray, hastily, seeing her mistake; “she’s 
not like most girls, and besides you must recol- 
lect that she’s ridiculously rich herself, so money 
would be ‘no object’ to her.” 

“I’d forgotten that. But, to change the subject, 
what time are you going to Mrs. Lindley’s ?” 

“About six.” 

“Then I shall see you there.” 

“Yes. I’m so sorry Georgie won’t be able to 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


49 


go. But come to dinner to-morrow ; it’s my day 
home, you know, and perhaps, if you’re very good, 
I may manage to let you see her alone for a half- 
hour or so during the evening.” 

Lee grasped her hand, murmuring his thanks. 

^'‘Pas du she said, coolly. “I shall enjoy 

managing a tete-a-tete almost as much as you will 
taking part in it. But now let me give you some 
instructions. To begin with, she must not sus- 
pect, for an instant, that I know anything about 
the state of your feelings toward her. Let her 
find that out naturally ; it will be much better so. 
Be careful what you do, and for heaven’s sake 
don’t be rash. Don’t let her read your intentions 
in those big, honest eyes of yours, nor let her lose 
interest in you by seeing you dancing attendance 
upon some other girl. Consider always how you 
can best please her, without letting her see your 
object, and this you will find no easy task, for she 
is a remarkably bright young woman. Be always 
at her service, and yet never obtrusive. Adore 
her, if you like, but don’t tell her about it at pres- 
ent. Follow my instructions, and time and I will 
do the rest. Must you go so soon ? Well, I shall 
see you in the crush. Stay a moment, though. 
Send her some flowers to-day, and a box of bon- 


50 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


bons to-morrow ; she^ll be well enough to eat them 
then, and to think of you besides. And donh 
forget to have plenty of marrons put in, for I am 
devoted to them.’^ 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


51 


CHAPTER IV. 

GEORGIE SHOCKED. 

That night, after dinner, Ray went up-stairs to 
Georgie’s room. She found her dressed and 
lying on a sofa, with a tray full of tea and toast 
on a chair beside her. 

“So glad you’re feeling better this evening, 
dearie,” she said, cordially. “But can’t you eat 
something? Tea and toast. Bless my soul, 
what trash ! It makes me sick to look at it. 
Won’t you have something nourishing ? A little 
piece of chicken, or beefsteak ? Do, now ; you 
won’t get out in a week if you try to live on such 
stuff as this.” 

“I couldn’t touch another thing, really,” re- 
plied Georgie. “I’m not usually troubled with 
loss of appetite, but my head has been aching 
frightfully all the afternoon, and anything sub- 
stantial would make me worse again, I know. 
But tell me about the reception ; was it nice ? 
And whom did you see that I know?” 

“It was delightful, and everybody was there,” 
answered Ray. “Mrs. Lindley wore yellow. Just 
imagine, with her leathery hide. And those two 


52 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


old-maid daughters of hers were standing beside 
her in baby-pink and light-blue, looking exactly 
like half-hedged chickens, with their great long 
arms and scrawny necks. They’re all such 
frights. And yet the younger one, who affects 
the English drawl, ^don’t you know,’ had the 
greatest lot of little dudes hanging around her. 
It’s her money, I suppose, for it certainly isn’t 
her beauty. She looked scared to death all the 
time she was receiving. But, as I say, it was 
very pleasant, and ever so many people asked 
after you, and were dreadfully sorry to hear you 
were ill.” 

“I wish I could have gone. Were the Mortons 
there ?” 

*‘Yes, he was wandering around, alone as 
usual, while she was sitting on the stairs, tuck- 
ing away champagne with a crowd of half-grown 
boys.” 

‘‘And Peter Persuade — you saw him ?” 

“Of course,” replied Ray. “He goes every- 
where. Do you know I think he’s a perfect 
study, that fellow, and what a rocking walk he 
has, like a vessel in a gale. I shall never forget 
him the night he was usher at Stella Campbell’s 


A SOCIAL METJiOR. 


53 


wedding — see-sawing up the aisle, with his bald 
head shining like a billiard-ball.’’ 

“But you like him, don’t you ?” asked Georgie, 
quickly. 

“Certainly. Who doesn’t? He’s such excel- 
lent company, always has the latest scandal, and 
tells it so well. There’s nothing he so thoroughly 
enjoys as talking about the time when he had 
‘ loads of money,’ and what he would do if he had 
it now.” 

“You know he went through with his father’s 
and grandfather’s fortunes in less than no time.” 

“I know, and is waiting for another. But it 
must be at least half a million, he says, for he 
wouldn’t thank any one to leave him less, as it 
would only aggravate him.” 

“Yes, he’s a character. But what is his latest ?” 

“His latest? Let me see if I remember,” said 
Ray, thoughtfully. 

“Oh, yes ; he talks about ^me butler,’ ^me 
valet,’ ^me coachman,’ in the most pretentious 
way.” 

“How absurd! But every one understands 
him.” 

“Every one, and there isn’t another just like 
him in the world. I’ll wager.” 


54 


A JSOCIAZ METEOR. 


‘‘No, I don’t believe there is. He’s the only 
one of his kind to be found anywhere. Some- 
times he becomes a little tiresome, though, don’t 
you think so ?” 

“Not to me. I love to listen to his chatter, and 
he never bores me,” declared Ray. 

“Did you see Mr. Fanning, the widower?” 

“No, but his daughter was there, looking as 
much like a butter-tub as usual. I don’t see how 
so handsome a man could have a child so unlike 
him. She’s really too disgusting. She was re- 
ceiving, too, and wore a white tulle dress with an 
enormous wreath of roses around her neck. She 
looked exactly like a garlanded ox.” 

“She is homely,” observed Georgie, languidly. 

“No, she isn’t; she’s simply confoundedly 
plain. I could forgive her if she was out and out 
ugly, but as it is, all you can say about her is, 
that she’s fat. Her face would be rather pretty 
if she hadn’t three distinct chins. But you 
haven’t asked after Lee.” 

“No ; I suppose he was there,” replied Georgie. 

“To be sure,” said Ray, “and he asked most 
particularly after you. I thought he was going 
to cry when I told him you were ill, he looked so 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


65 


distressed. He rushed right out after some flow- 
ers to send you.’’ 

“That was very nice of him,” said Georgie. “I 
shall have to write him a pretty little note when 
they come.” 

“He’s about as big a conquest as you’ve ever 
made, isn’t he ?” asked Ray, suddenly, smoothing 
out an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt. 

The color rose to Georgie’s cheek as she an- 
swered, a little coldly : 

“What nonsense, Ray ! A man whom I’ve 
known only a few weeks. Be sensible.” 

“I am sensible ; enough so, at any rate, to be- 
lieve that he’s decidedly smitten with you,” re- 
torted Ray, “and that you’ve only to play your 
cards right to have him at your feet.” 

But Georgie had turned her face , to the wall 
and disdained to reply. 

Just then a knock came at the door and the 
flowers were handed in. 

Glad of an occupation, Ray untied the box and 
proceeded to arrange them in a bunch. 

“He’s the biggest catch in town,” she resumed, 
“and a man any woman might be proud to march 
up to the altar with. Why, half the girls here 
would jump down his throat at a word of encour- 


56 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


agement from him. But evidently he prefers you 
and if I were in your place I would drop him a 
little courtesy and say ‘yes, and thank you kindly, 
sir,’ if he asked me.” 

“What’s the use of talking about such a thing ?” 
exclaimed Georgie, impatiently. “You know I 
never intend to marry. My first experience in 
that line was not so pleasant that I should wish 
to repeat it.” 

Ray dropped the flowers in astonishment. 

“Name of a china cup,” she exclaimed ; “do you 
mean to say you’ll refuse him if he proposes ?” 

“Name of a pewter plate, that’s just what I do 
mean,” returned Georgie, calmly. “But I hope 
no such disagreeable task will be necessary, for I 
believe he understands that I never intend to 
change my name. I’ve told him so in the course 
of conversation once or twice, I believe.” 

“A body would think you’d been married and 
divorced, to hear you talk about ‘experience,’ ” re- 
torted Ray. “Do you suppose you’ll keep such 
a foolish resolve ? Of course you’ll marry, and 
before long, too. A girl like you isn’t often per- 
mitted to go through life ‘all forlorn,’ and my ad- 
vice to you is to make up your mind that you’ll 
become Mrs. Lee Grant before the roses are in 


A SOCIAL MLTWB. 


57 


bloom again. Do, and we’ll all go over to Europe 
together in June. Seriously, Georgie, you 
couldn’t do better. Just think of your position 
here in society. You’d be the envy of all the 
women, and you could live m priticesse. Besides, 
you and Lee were made for each other.” 

‘‘You thought the same thing about Jack.” 

“Well, so I did,” admitted Ray, “but it seems I 
was mistaken.” 

“I could never love any one again,” replied 
Georgie. 

“See here,” exclaimed Ray, suddenly, “you’re 
not pining after him yet, are you ? Because if 
you are, I can tell you that you are wasting your 
time. I heard yesterday from a person who 
knows all about it that he is at present paying 
great attention to some widow or other living in 
New York, a perfectly respectable person, but 
desperately in need of number two, as number one 
left her with a small army of debts to be settled 
when he died and little to do it with. On dit^ she 
is very hasty of temper, and that she actually 
tongue-lashed her husband into his grave. Jack 
no doubt has already heard this rumor, and yet 
he is devotion itself to her.” 

If Ray intended to be cruel, she must have been 


58 


A SOCIAL METEOK 


satisfied with the effect of her speech, for Georgie 
turned white to the lips. 

“Who told you this ?” she asked, in a low 
voice. 

“A friend of Charley’s, who knows Mr. Nelson 
well. But, my dear, it was foolish of me to even 
mention his name to you, since it affects you so. 
Pray forgive me. I wouldn’t have hurt your feel- 
ings for the world.” 

“You haven’t hurt my feelings,” answered 
Georgie, “only it was a slight shock, and you 
know I’m not well. I think I’ll go to bed, for 
talking has made my head worse again. No, 
never mind the flowers — I’ll take care of them. 
See, I’ll put them on this little table at the head 
of my bed, where I can look at them the first 
thing in the morning.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


69 


CHAPTER V. 

A PLEDGE OF SECRECY. 

Two weeks later Georgie went to the theater 
with Lee and Mr. and Mrs. Wolcott. It had 
been agreed upon that they were all to return to 
the Thornes’ for a little supper, as Mr. Thorne 
was fond of playing the host and considered his 
cook the finest in town. 

“What’s the use of eating all sorts of myste- 
rious mixtures when you can sit down to your 
own table and feel satisfied that you’re in no 
danger of being poisoned ?” he would say when 
his wife found fault with him for accepting so 
few invitations to dine out with her. 

When they reached the house, however, they 
were met by Mrs. Thorne’s maid with a note 
which she gave Georgie. 

“ My Dear Georgie,” she read. “ Charlie 
has been seized with one of his old fits of in- 
digestion and is so ill I am afraid I cannot 
join you for supper. It is nothing serious, 
but as he will not let anyone give him his 


60 


A tVCIAL METEOR. 


medicine excepting myself I cannot very well 
leave him. Do not let this interfere with your 
pleasure, however. Joseph will wait upon you 
just as though I was there, and if you want any- 
thing ring for Annette. When you come up- 
stairs knock at my door. Ray.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Wolcott, “what shall we 
do?” 

“As she suggests, I suppose,” answered Geor. 
gie. “It’s very unfortunate, but everything is 
ready for us, and it would be too bad to ignore 
Eugene’s efforts. Even if we die of dyspepsia 
or ennui brought on by too much of each other’s 
society we ought to try and eat something for his 
sake, anyway. Poor Mr. Thome, I’m so sorry 
he’s ill, he’s such excellent company in his own 
house. And I’m sure it’s a great disappoint- 
ment to Ray ; she always enters into anything of 
this kind with so much spirit. Annette,” (to 
the maid who was assisting the ladies with their 
wraps) “tell madam if she can possibly leave 
Mr. Thome for even a few minutes later on, to 
join us.” 

But madam did not appear, and the supper 
which was composed of salads, cold meats, and a 
dozen dainty little dishes intended to coax the 


A S0C7AL METjlOH. 61 

appetite of not very hungry people, went on as 
gayly as it, could under the circumstances. 

They all hoped and half expected to hear 
Ray’s gay laugh and light foot-fall in the hall 
before they had finished, but in vain. Georgie 
felt a sense of unrest and was soon distinctly 
bored with Mrs. Wolcott’s nonsence and shrieks 
of silly laughter, while she, seeing that the 
others were inclined to be quiet, seemed to feel 
called upon to entertain them all. It was a relief 
to two of the party at least, when Mr. Wolcott’s 
carriage was announced, and the door had closed 
upon the last ringing peal of laughter. 

Lee lingered a little while, as it was not late, to 
look at some engravings which Mrs. Thorne had 
told Georgie a day or so previous to show him, 
and which, until he reminded her, she had for- 
gotten. 

As he sat there, looking at her and drinking in 
the pure loveliness of her face and form, he was 
filled with a longing to keep her and never let 
her leave him again. She seemed so sweet and 
noble, so capable of a life-long devotion. Never 
had a woman moved him as this one did; he 
began to wish vaguely that he had lived a better, 
more useful life, not that he had been any worse 


62 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


than other men, but he wished he could offer 
her a name made famous by good deeds. It was 
not a passing admiration for her beauty that he 
felt — he had seen hundreds of lovely women 
before now — but she possessed that indescrib- 
able “something” which is the attribute of the 
object of our adoration only once in a life-time. 

Almost before he realized it he was pouring 
passionate words into her ear and begging her to 
“make him the happiest of men.” 

He had not meant to precipitate his declara- 
tion ; he had intended to be patient, as Ray had 
advised, for he was afraid he might frighten her 
if he hurried matters. Knowing how recent her 
last engagement was, he thought it but natural 
she should hesitate before binding herself a 
second time. But he lost control of himself, and 
rushed blindly on, taking the risk of losing her 
by his haste. 

At first, as she listened, a look of pain flitted 
across Georgie’s face ; perhaps she was thinking 
of the time when her heart had bounded with joy 
at hearing words of the same import from an- 
other. How gladly she had said yes, and what 
a thrill of bliss that betrothal kiss had given 
her. 


A SOCIAZ MA'TZOR 


63 


And yet, this man was handsomer than Jack, 
and in every way calculated to make her a more 
desirable husband. Nine women out of ten 
would not have looked at Jack when Lee was 
around, but she was that tenth. 

As Ray had said, her resolve never to marry 
was a foolish one, for she might find contentment, 
at least, in matrimony. She would have no right 
to think of any one then but her husband, and 
there was a possibility that she might find happi- 
ness, too, after she had outlived all memories of 
the past. Why should she not risk it, at’ any 
rate ? Other women had “loved and lost” before 
now, and had lived to make good wives and 
mothers. 

Then a distorted vision of Jack rose up in her 
mind. How she had loved him 1 Would she be 
doing right in giving herself to this man, when 
she knew she would probably never be able to 
feel toward him as a wife should toward her hus- 
band ? If she had only never met Jack. But it 
was too late to wish that now. Then she thought 
of the woman Ray had told her about, and she 
wondered vaguely who she was. She would write 
and find out. Then she asked herself bitterly, 
why she should bother about any person or thing 


64 


A SOCIAL JmrLVIi. 


concerning Jack ? He had gone voluntarily out 
of her life ; let him stay. The opportunity for 
her to shake off the miserable past had come, and 
she would embrace it. 

All this time Lee was waiting for his answer. 

In a few words she gave it to him, and sub- 
mitted, with very good grace (under the circum- 
stances), to being taken into his arms and 
caressed after the usual custom of lovers. But 
when he begged her to name an early date for 
the marriage, she proved reticent, and absolutely 
refused to listen when he said something about a 
month being quite long enough to wait. 

‘^Six weeks, then he suggested, hopefully. 

‘‘No, nor sixteen,’’ answered Georgie, decidedly. 
“I will not think of getting married under six 
months. Why, I hardly know you, and haste in 
a matter of this kind is worse than foll3^” 

He was inclined to rebel, but concluded to yield 
to her wishes. 

“Another thing,” she persisted, “you must 
promise me to say nothing about our engagement 
until I give you leave. As for me, I shall tell no 
one but my aunt and Mrs. Thorne, for they have 
the right to know.” 

Here, too, he showed signs of dissatisfaction. 


A SOCIAL MEIKOR. 


65 


but was obliged to accede to her once more, for 
she told him plainly that on these two points she 
was determined to be obeyed. 

“Don’t think me unkind, but I’ve been all 
through the horrors of one broken engagement, 
you must remember,” she explained, “and don’t 
propose to have my name before the public under 
the same circumstances again, for if anything 
should cut ours short, I would never hear the 
last of it.” 

He went up to her and took both her hands in 
his. 

“Tell me,” he said, earnestly, “has this hesi- 
tation anything to do with your other affair? 
Are you sure that your heart is free to give 
again ?” 

Georgie flushed a little beneath his gaze, but 
raised her clear eyes to his face as she responded, 
sincerely : 

“Perfectly. He has gone as entirely out of my 
life as if he- had never existed. But if you do not 
care to trust me ” 

“Trust you, my darling ?” he replied, passion- 
ately. “I’m only too glad to be able to do so. 
Let the past go, and let us never refer to it again. 
It must always be a painful subject for you, and 


66 A SOCIAL METEOn. 

I’’ — smiling — “might get jealous of this unknown 
first-comer.” 

When she went up stairs she knocked gently 
at Ray’s door, and then went on to her own room. 
Before she. had time to turn up the light and dis- 
miss the sleepy maid who was dozing in her 
chair, she heard a quick footstep in the hall, and 
a moment later Ray entered the room and un- 
ceremoniously threw herself down on the tiger- 
skin in front of the fire. She was a cold-blooded 
little creature, and was always complaining of 
being chilly. Her silk wrapper was open at the 
throat, and showed the plump white throat and 
breast ; her hair was hanging loosley down her 
back, and Georgie noticed that her face was hag- 
gard and looked as if she had been crying. She 
lay with her eyes fixed on nothing in particular, 
twining her fingers nervously in and out of the 
animal’s hair, for fully five minutes, without 
speaking a word. Then she said, moving a little 
away from the blaze : 

“Don’t you love to lounge before a fire?” 

“I don’t know. Yes, of course, when I’m 
cold,” answered Georgie. 

“I mean to lie in front of it and dream. No, I 
don’t believe you do ; it isn’t natural to you to 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


67 


loll. I can’t imagine you sprawled out this way, 
slowly baking yourself, first on one side and then 
on the other,” returned Ray with a mirthless 
little laugh. ‘‘Do you know I think I’d make a 
good Turk, for there’s nothing I like better than 
to ‘hang around’ and ‘take my comfort’ for six 
days out of the week.” 

“And on the other one ?” 

“Then I want to go in for a rattling good time, 
to do whatever I choose, and thoroughly enjoy 
my youth and health. If I were a man I think 
I should never remain a month in the same 
place, but as I am not, I indulge occasionally in 
a cigarette and dream, and dream, until I am no 
longer myself.” 

“You worthless little creature!” exclaimed 
Georgie. 

“I dare say I am,” admitted Ray, lazily, “ but 
that’s my disposition and I can’t help it ; can I ? 
I sit here hour after hour sometimes, when I’m 
out of sorts, and try to imagine a day when I can 
do just exactly as I like.” 

“That day will never come, my dear. Fancy 
such a state of affairs I ” said Georgie, lightly 
“Your friends would have rather a hard time of 
it I’m afraid, you are so full of whims. If you 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


got offended at any of them you would throw 
them out of the window, if it was nearer than 
the door.’’ 

“No, I’d promise to be very good. But, hon- 
estly, you, with a great many other deluded 
people, seem to think my life is a bed of roses.” 

Georgie looked smilingly at her. 

“Well, and isn’t it ? ” she asked. 

“By no manner of means,” promptly returned 
Ray. 

“Something troubling you ? What’s the 
crumpled rose leaf this time ? ” 

“It’s no rose leaf, I assure you ; it’s a real 
Thorne, and a mighty big one at thac,” answered 
Ray with a forlorn little smile at her joke, “and 
it troubles me greatly, too.” 

“Tell me about it ; perhaps I can help you.” 

“No, you can’t,” in a despairing tone. “Nobody 
can.” 

“It must be serious, indeed.” 

“I have troubles which you are fortunate 
enough to know nothing about yet,” she said 
with some scorn, “and according to your own 
statements will always escape.” 

“You mean you have had a misunderstanding 
with your husband ?” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


“How discerning you are,” cried Mrs. Thome. 
“Misunderstanding, yes, if you choose to call it 
so ; I would call it a row.^’ 

“Why, I thought you were on the best of terms. 
I’m sure you always seem to be,” observed 
Georgie. 

“Of course, do you suppose I’m fool enough to 
let everybody see through my key-hole ?” raising 
herself to a half-lying, half-sitting position and 
regarding her friend with indignant surprise. 
“Not much. No doubt lots of my friends would 
like nothing better than to know the state of my 
domestic thermometer occasionally, but I don’t 
expect to gratify them. Yet, every once in a 
while, it flies up pretty high, I can tell you. It’s 
about a hundred and seventy-flve now, for in- 
stance.” 

“What sent it up this time ?” 

“Think what day this is and you’ll under- 
stand.” 

“It’s the first of December,” said Georgie, puz- 
zled. 

“And of course the bills came in this morning. 
Now, Charley hates like the dickens to pay bills, 
and, as perhaps you are already aware, he is no 
bad second to me regarding temper when he gets 


70 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


going ; and lie usually does get going about the 
first of every month. They were a little bigger 
this time than they ordinarily are, and conse- 
quently we had a fine scene in the library after 
dinner. He fumed and stormed like a madman, 
and refused flatly to come down to supper, and, 
as I had been weeping, I didn’t care to exhibit 
myself. So I wrote that note.” 

“It’s too bad. But he gets over his rage 
quickly, doesn’t he ?” asked Georgie. 

Ray made a gesture of impatience. “Well, and 
if he does,” she said, disgustedly, “it occurs twelve 
times a year regularly. Why, he grew fairly 
black in the face when I showed him my milli- 
ner’s account. The idea ! He’s the most unrea- 
sonable man I ever saw. The last time we were 
out together he asked me ‘where I got the hat,’ 
and told me ‘for heaven’s sake to get another, and 
not disgrace him by appearing in that one any 
more.’ 

“So of course I went right around to madam’s 
the next day and ordered another, and now he 
raves because it cost a few dollars more than the 
first. As if I could ask madam what she was 
going to charge me. She’d feel insulted, and tell 
all her other customors how mean I was. Charley 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


71 


thinks I ought to find out the price of everything 
before I buy it. He says he always does. I gen- 
erally do myself, but not when I am dealing with 
a French milliner or dressmaker ; nobody does. 
I’m bound to have what I want, whether it costs 
much or little, and what’s the use of fretting about 
things before the time comes to pay for them? I 
wish I was an actress, and then it would be all 
right for me to accept valuable presents from the 
people I entertained. I should let them give me 
all the thousand and one little knickknacks which 
go to make life endurable, and not so much as say 
hhank you.’ ” 

“Then you might see ever so many scowling 
faces, instead of one,” remarked Georgie. 

^^Pas du tout. Men are generally too glad to 
furnish the ^peaches and cream’ to the objects of 
their admiration. It’s only the bread-and-butter 
question which galls, and that they have to re- 
spond to with their wives. It’s the death of ro- 
mance. Once they are sure of you they begin to 
show the cloven foot and try to mold you to suit 
themselves. Oh, I tell you they are brutes when 
you know them well.” 

“You’re very discouraging indeed,” observed 
Georgie. 


72 


A SOCIAL ME7'B01i. 


“But this cannot affect you/^ uttered Ray 
pointedly. 

“Still, people have been known to change their 
minds.’’ 

“What,” cried Ray. “Yes,* you’re actually 
blushing. So Lee proposed to-night, and you ac- 
cepted him ?” 

“Yes.” 

Again there was a short silence. Then Ray 
said, kissing her : 

“Well, my dear, I wish you every possible hap- 
piness, of course. Lee is a splendid fellow, and 
if there ever was a girl with a bright prospect be- 
fore her, it is you. But I’m hardly in the mood 
to congratulate you very heartily just now. 
When I can I will, and in the meantime I will 
pray for you. By the way,” more brightly, “ there’s 
your guitar. Hand it to me and I’ll sing some- 
thing appropriate for the occasion. Now what 
shall it be ?” as Georgie obeyed her. 

“Anything, only be careful, or you’ll disturb 
Charley.” 

“Happy thought,” returned Ray, unfeelingly, 
“he disturbed me this evening, and now I’ll take a 
turn.” 

She struck a chord or two, and then began 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


73 


“Paddy Duffy’s Cart,” wliich she executed with 
more noise than music. Then she lowered her 
voice and sang “Put on your Bridal Vail,” very 
sweetly and pathetically. 

When she had finished the last words, she sud- 
denly dropped the instrument and burst into 
tears. 

Georgie looked at her in consternation, but see- 
ing that she was nervous and excited, did not 
attempt to check her sobs, thinking that a ‘good 
cry’ would probably relieve her. 

In a few moments she grew calmer, and lifting 
her face, said : 

“I wish I was dead — I wish Charley was dead, 
I wish we were all dead.” 

“Don’t!” remonstrated Georgie, softly; “don’t 
say what you don’t mean ; you’re not quite your- 
self to-night.” 

“But I do mean it. If you knew how wretched 
I am sometimes.” 

“So are we all, but we get over it and are happy 
again.” 

Ray shook her head mournfully. 

“I’m never happy. I haven’t been for years.” 

“My dear girl,” exclaimed Georgie, “wbat ar^ 


74 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


you saying ? Generally speaking, yon are one of 
the merriest, brightest women I ever met.” 

“Well, my heart’s usually heavy, for all that.” 

As Georgie made no reply, Ray dragged her- 
self toward her, and laying her head in her lap, 
continued in a weary tone : 

“You see, dear, you don’t know the horrors of . 
living with a man you hate and despise.” 

“You hate and despise!” echoed Georgie. “Why, 
this is dreadful, Ray ; I can’t understand it.” 

“No, I say you can’t. But I do, only too well.” 

“But since when have you turned against 
your husband? When you married him you 
cared for him surely.” 

“No, I never cared for him, I tolerated him, 
but that was all. I knew from the first that he 
was anything but the kind of man I would wish 
to marry, but I thought he was better than he 
was, and he gets more insufferable every da}^ 
It’s only a question of time how long I can stand 
it.” 

“What is the reason you hate him ?” 

“Oh, they are many. He’s mean and stingy, 
and so narrow-minded. The only thing he spends 
money for without grumbling is his table ; being 
a gourmand himself, he doesn’t consider gluttony 


A SOCIAL METLOR 


75 


in others a fault, and is willing to cater to 
both his own and his friends palates to any 
extent. That’s why he’s so popular with the 
club men. He feeds them well and they never 
decline his invitations. I always knew he 
was fond of eating, and that he wasn’t in- 
clined to throw money out of the window, 
but you may believe I never supposed for an 
instant that he would turn out as bad as he has.” 

“But if you didn’t love him why did you marry 
him ? Surely you had other opportunities to 
marry well.” 

“Yes, but not so rich. I always was fond of 
luxuries, and got them,” drawing a deep breath, 
“but they have cost me many a dreary hour. 
Oh, I’m so sick of it all. I feel as if I could kill 
myself sometimes.” 

“Why don’t you go away somewhere and get 
rest and perfect quiet for a while ? Life might 
look brighter on your return.” 

“Alone?” 

“No, with some congenial companion. It 
might do you so much good. I believe you’re 
tired out in mind and body.” 

Ray opened her eyes to their fullest extent, and, 
as if just struck with an idea, she half rose, and 


76 


A tVCIAL METEOR. 


putting her hands on her friend’s shoulders, 
exclaimed : 

^‘IVe got it ; the very thing. I will go away, 
not to some gloomy country place where I would 
die of the ‘blues’ in two days time, but to New 
York, where I will have a complete change of 
people and sights, and you shall come with me. 
You need a little rest, too ; it will do you lots of 
good. You will come, won’t you? I must do 
some shopping there soon, anyway. Don’t say 
no, but let’s go, and we can be as independent as 
queens for a week ; we need not see a soul, and 
can be just as selfish as we like. It will be 
jolly.” 

Georgie hesitated a moment, as if turning this 
proposition over in her mind, and then she bent 
over and kissed the eager little face in front of 
her. 

“Yes,” she said, “I will go with you, and we 
can start as soon as you please. But I think the 
country would be the best place for us, for many 
reasons.” 

“Bah ! I loathe the woods, and fancy a farm- 
house in midwinter. No, a big city is the best 
place for us,” 


A SOCIAL METeOH. 


77 


CHAPTER VI. 

AT A NEW YORK HOTEL. 

Two days later Georgie and Ray were settled 
in New York at the Hoffman House. They had 
selected this hotel not only on account of its 
superiority over most of those in the city, but 
also because Georgie had lived there for some 
years before her father’s death, and so was sure 
of receiving the best attention. 

Mr. Thorne accompanied his wife from Phila- 
delphia and saw that everything was arranged 
for their comfort before Georgie, who had paid a 
flying visit to her aunt, joined them. 

Their rooms, like most of those at this superb 
hotel, were large and elegantly furnished. They 
were connecting, and Ray’s opened into a cozy 
little sitting-room, where they intended to take 
their breakfast and dinner every day, and lunch- 
eon wherever they chose. Ray, who never did 
anything for herself in the way of dressing, 
brought her maid, while Georgie, who was less 


78 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


fastidious, left hers at home, declaring she would 
not be bothered with her, and that for the few days 
they were going to spend there, she could wait 
upon herself. 

They arrived about five o’clock in the after- 
noon, and, as they were somewhat fatigued by 
their journey they decided to dine by themselves 
at six o’clock, and retire early. Accordingly Mr. 
Thorne, after giving the necessary orders to the 
waiter who was to serve them, hurried off to catch 
his train. 

The two girls put on loose tea-gowns, and sat 
down to the table just as the soup was brought 
in. 

“Do you know, I think this is going to be de- 
lightful,” observed Ray, as she pounced on the 
celery. “I feel hungrier to-day than I have for 
months. I’m sure this little trip is just what we 
both needed to tone us up. I get so mortally 
sick of seeing the same faces day after day that 
sometimes I make up my mind I will just stay 
in the house and give up society altogether. It 
gets so monotonous after a while. Don’t you 
think so ?” 

“I never did care for it very much,” answered 
Georgie. “I like to go out, occasionally, just 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


79 


when I feel in the humor for it, but this inces- 
sant round of dinners, luncheons, dances, and 
suppers, possesses no charms for me whatever. 
In fact, I can’t stand it ; I’m not strong enough. 
I found out at the end of my first season that 
there was nothing in it. You simply wear your- 
self out in trying to please or amuse other people, 
with very little satisfaction to yourself It seems 
strange, but at my first reception everybody ap- 
peared to me to be so pleasant and agreeable, I 
couldn’t tell whom I liked best. At my last, 
there weren’t half a dozen persons I would care 
to go across the room to shake hands with. I’ve 
discovered that the only way for me to enjoy life 
thoroughly is to have a few well-chosen friends, 
and live for them alone.” 

“My idea, exactly,” rejoined Ray, decidedly; 
“when I have five or six nice, jolly people whom 
I know well, around me, I’m perfectly happy. I 
hate crowds.” 

“Another thing which may strike you as odd,” 
pursued Georgie, “is, that I no longer care for 
what you call ‘nice, jolly people’; they seem so 
superficial to me, and soon get to be as tiresome 
as the rest.” 

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Ray, “they’re the only 


80 


A JSOCIAZ METJSOn, 


ones who don’t bore me. When I’m with them I 
cast off every care I have in the vrorld, and forget 
there is such a thing as trouble.” 

“That’s the difference between our dispositions, 
then.” 

“Yes, it is, certainly, and either you’ve changed 
a great deal in a few years (for you were a very 
merry school-girl), or else I’m getting in my 
dotage.” 

The next three mornings they spent in shop- 
ping, and the afternoons in driving in the park. 

Ray continued in the best of spirits, and was 
unusually lively, buying everything she fancied, 
and trying to urge Georgie to do the same. 

“Why, if I had your money, I wouldn’t deny 
myself a single thing,” she said, just after having 
made a most extravagant purchase. 

Georgie smiled. 

“I don’t see that you do now,” she responded. 
“I’m positive you spend four times as much as 
any woman of your acquaintance. You must be 
poorer by hundreds of dollars this morning than 
you were yesterday.” 

“Well, if I am, I haven’t gotten one unneces- 
sary article. I needed all I bought.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


81 


There was no answer to be made to this, so 
Georgie wisely held her peace. 

In about four days’ time, however, Ray began 
to get restless and uneasy. She was rapidly 
tiring of this solitude a deux^ as she jokingly 
called it, and, in spite of her efforts to appear 
cheerful and contented, Georgie noticed that she 
was already commencing to long for the conge- 
nial companionship of her gay friends. 

Ray, having spent most of her life in or near 
Philadelphia, knew very few people in New York, 
and she hailed with delight any acquaintances of 
Georgie’s whom they met on their walks or shop- 
ping tours, and begged them, indiscriminately, to 
“take pity on their loneliness, and call.” 

Finally Georgie began to be annoyed at her 
continual complaining at the very arrangement 
she herself had made, so one morning she said, 
half-jestingly, half-seriously : 

“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to 
send for Charley to come on for a day or two ? 
He’s certainly better than no one to talk to.” 

Ray reddened, and flashed a scornful glance 
at her. 

“How you talk,” she said. “As if I didn’t 
come here on purpose to get rid of him. But I’ll 


82 


A SOCIAL METEOU. 


tell you what would be a good idea, and I wonder 
it hasn’t occurred to you before this, that is, to 
ask Lee on. He could take us around, you 
know, and then we could go to the theater for a 
change. He may have some friend here in the 
city, too, who would be willing to make a fourth 
to our party, and then I shouldn’t be left out in 
the cold.” 

‘‘That’s not a bad suggestion,” replied Georgie, 
thoughtfully, “but how would it look ?” 

“Look? Why, it would look all right, of 
course. You’re engaged to Lee, and I’m chape- 
roning you here in New York for a week. What 
could be more natural than that he should wish 
to see you during that time?” 

“That part would be well enough, I suppose ; 
but I’m not so sure about the other man.” 

“Well, I don’t know any reason why he 
shouldn’t bring a friend with him to call if he 
chooses.” 

“To call ; yes, there would be no objection made 
to that. But people would be very apt to talk if 
they saw us all going out at night together:” 

“People ? What people ?” asked Ray. “I 
don’t know a soul in New York.” 

“But I do, a great many souls,” declared 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


83 


Georgie, “and they would certainly take it upon 
themselves to wonder at everything they saw me 
do which they didn’t understand. You know per- 
fectly well yourself how they can talk.” 

“But don’t I tell you you’re quite safe ? They 
can’t say a word against you,” persisted Mrs. 
Thorne, petulantly. 

“Why not?” returned Georgie; “they don’t 
know how things are. My engagement hasn’t 
been announced yet, you must recollect, and they 
would undoubtedly draw some kind of a conclu- 
sion of their own if they saw four of us out to- 
gether. People are none too charitable, as a 
usual thing. And besides, you must know a few 
New Yorkers.” 

“Not more than half a dozen, anyway,” ad- 
mitted Ray. 

“Every one of whom would be sure to see you 
and make unkind remarks.” 

“I wouldn’t care. Let them talk; their clatter 
can’t hurt me.” 

“It might reach Charley’s ears.” 

Ray whirled about impatiently. 

“Upon my word,” she exclaimed, angrily, “what 
a fuss you do make for nothing. A body would 
think I was meditating some crime, instead of a 


84 


A t:OCIAL METEOn. 


very innocent evening’s amusement. You sur- 
prise me sometimes with your Puritanical notions. 
What’s the good of borrowing trouble in that 
way ? There isn’t the least harm in what I sug- 
gested, but you go on as if I were talking of run- 
ning away from home or something equally des- 
perate. We’re only young once, and should try 
to make the most of our time while we can enjoy 
it. Why,” she went on, working herself into a 
passion, “if any of these old idiots should happen 
to see me at the theater with a man whose grand- 
mother’s pedigree they didn’t happen to know, 
and make remarks, do you suppose it would affect 
me ? Not at all, I assure you, as long as I knew 
I was doing nothing wrong. I should snap my 
fingers at them.” 

“But Charley ?” suggested Georgie, quietly. 

“Bah I if he found it out, and saw fit to quarrel 
with me about such a little thing, I would snap 
my fingers at him, too,” cried Ray. 

“What if he should be seriously offended ?” 
persisted Georgie. 

“And put me out of the house? Well, the 
world is large, and I should consider myself well 
rid of such a fool,” answered Ray. “But why do 
you always suppose disagreeable things and make 


A SOCIAL METjlOH. 


85 


objections to everything I propose ? You seem 
to think I’m a child, and you thwart me contin- 
ually. It’s too much, I declare,” she went on ex- 
citedly; “you are really too prudish and old-fash- 
ioned to put up with.” 

For the first time Georgie was really of- 
fended. 

“I’m sorry you’re disappointed in me,” she 
said, icily, “but perhaps it’s just as well that I 
should know it, before we go any further. I 
scarcely see why you should call me either ‘pru- 
dish’ or ‘old-fashioned,’ however, simply because 
I don’t choose to fly into the face of propriety. 
/ remember, if you don’t, that we are two women 
alone in a hotel, and that we should be partieu- 
larly careful of our actions on that account, and 
not do things deliberately which might astonish 
even our own friends. As it is, I don’t think 
we’re altogether above criticism, now.” 

“I suppose you refer to the cognac I take oc- 
casionally after my coffee,” sneered Ray. 

“Not more than I do to the people you invite 
here. It would be well enough to see some one 
once in a while, but I don’t think it’s the thing 
for us to have people running in continually. 
Now, for instance, I don’t think it was necessary 


86 


A SOCIAL MLTEOR 


for you to invite Mr. and Mrs. Lovell to stay to 
dinner yesterday.’’ 

“Why, they are friends of yours,” returned 
Ray, in a tone of indignant surprise. 

“Then, don’t you think it would have been 
just as well to let me ask them? They aren’t 
people I care particularly for, at any time,” re- 
plied Georgie, “and I wouldn’t invite them to 
take a meal with me in my own house, to say 
nothing of a hotel like this. She has a long 
tongue, and, the first thing you know, will be 
saying something spiteful about us, especially as 
I was not very cordial in my invitation.” 

“Well, I only thought they would help to re- 
lieve the monotony a little. It gets so stupid and 
poky with only ourselves day after day,” uttered 
Ray, crossly, “and your society isn’t always 
sufficient to make a person forget that such a 
thing as trouble exists in the world.” 

Georgie turned scarlet, and walked away with- 
out a word. She was so angry that she had to 
bite her lips to keep from making the stinging 
reply which was on the end of her tongue. 

Ray, seeing that she had gone too far, sprang 
toward her and caught her hand. 

“Don’t leave me that way,” she said, plead- 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


87 


iiigly ; “pray, p7^ay forgive me. I didn’t mean 
to be so hateful, truly. I’ve got such a nasty 
way of saying thoughtless things and hurting 
people’s feelings. Please look at me and say 
you’ll forgive me, won’t you ?” 

Then, as Georgie paid no attention to her, but 
struggled to free herself, she clasped both arms 
around her waist, and kneeling down in front of 
her so that she could not take a step without 
treading upon her, looked imploringly up into 
her face and continued to beg pardon for her 
rudeness. 

Georgie was finally forced to let her eyes rest 
upon her, but as she did so, she could not prevent 
them from expressing the disgust and contempt 
she felt for the cruel, selfish creature at her feet. 

She reluctantly spoke the words which Ray 
was pleading for so earnestly, more to get away 
from her than because she really felt friendly 
toward her. 

Then she shut herself up in her room, where 
she remained until lunch was on the table, trying 
to battle against the mistrust of Ray which she 
felt was growing upon her, and, apparently, she 
conquered, for when she joined her again it was 
with her usual manner. 


88 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


That afternoon, unknown to Ray, she tele- 
graphed Lee, inviting him to dine with them the 
following night. She inteifded to surprise her if 
he came, by taking a box for a certain play which 
she knew she was very anxious to see. She said 
nothing in her message about his bringing any 
one with him, though, for she had made up her 
mind to ask her grandmother and uncle to join 
them. Appearances were worthy of some con- 
sideration, in her eyes, at any rate, and if she 
followed Ray’s instructions in this matter, ap- 
pearances would certainly suffer. 

“I’m willing to let her have her own way in a 
great many things,” she said to herself, “but 
there are a few in which I think my opinion is 
worth more than hers. If he comes, we will dine 
here quietly, and meet the others at the theater ; 
then afterward we can have supper by ourselves, 
if she likes. But I am determined there shall be 
no ‘fourth,’ for her own sake as well as mine. 
Besides, I am sure Lee wouldn’t approve of such 
an arrangement any more than I do.” 

She received his reply an hour or so later. It 
said that he would be with them in time for 
dinner the next evening. 

The following morning Ray was seized with a 


A SOCIAL MEIL’OR 


desire to take a Turkish bath, saying that she 
had never tried one and was anxious to do so. 
Georgie, who always yielded to her when she ex- 
pressed any reasonable wish, accompanied her 
accordingly. 

She enjoyed it hugely, but willful as usual, she 
paid no attention to the admonitions of her 
attendant, and staid in the water far beyond the 
prescribed time. As a consequence, after lunch- 
eon, she was taken ill with a severe chill. 

Georgie advised her to go to bed for an hour 
or so and be rubbed with alcohol, as she com- 
plained of feeling lame all over. Then she 
(Georgie) dressed and went out, promising to be 
back early. 

Ray submitted to being manipulated and 
coddled by her maid (who, by the way, was de- 
voted to her) until she was so drowsy that she 
could no longer keep her eyes open. Then the 
woman, threw one of her pretty lace wrappers 
around her, and after dropping the curtains in 
the sitting-room, left her to doze a little while on 
the sofa. 

She soon fell into a quiet, dreamless slumber, 
which would probably have lasted for hours had 
she not been aroused by a rap at the door. 


90 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


Startled, as a person is apt to be, when called out 
of a sound sleep, she opened her eyes suddenly, 
dimly wondering what had disturbed her. Then 
as the knock was repeated she lifted her 
head, too exhausted to rise, and called out 
drowsily : 

“Come in.’’ 

A waiter entered with a card in his hand. 

She read: “Mr. Lee Percival Grant,” and 
gave a little cry of joy. 

She opened her lips to tell the man to beg him 
to wait a few moments and she wonld receive 
him, when Lee, supposing of course that he was 
expected, stepped into the room, hat in hand. So 
James went quietly out and closed the door after 
him. 

They both looked a little confused, but Ray 
was the first to recover herself. 

She held out her hand to him and said, smil- 
ing faintly : 

“I hope you will excuse my not rising, Lee, 
but you see I’m on the sick list to-day. I took 
a Turkish bath this morning and it proved too 
much for me. But I’m better now, and am 
delighted to see you, and I’m sure Georgie will 
be. Why didn’t you let us kilow you urere 


A SOCIAL METEOn. 


91 


coming, thougli ? We might both have been out; 
as it is, it’s only by chance that I am at home.” 

‘‘Why, Georgie telegraphed me yesterday to 
come. Surely she received my reply,” he re- 
turned with surprise. 

“She never said anything at all to me about it.” 

“That’s strange,” he observed, “and she’s out 
now, you say?” 

She nodded. 

“Oh, well,” he said, with the air of confidence 
in his fiancee so usual with a man in love, “I 
suppose she’ll soon be home now, and then she 
can tell us why she neglected to tell you. She 
expected me. Of course she has some good 
reason.” 

“She’ll have her reasons no doubt,” replied 
Ray, “but what good there can be in such fool- 
ishness as she has displayed on this occasion I 
can’t quite understand.” 

She was provoked to think that he had walked 
in upon her in this unceremonious way when she 
knew she must be looking far from her best. 

As for Georgie, she would have enjoyed noth- 
ing better than slapping her face at that minute. 
But, as it was, she was powerless to express her 
opinion, for she knew Lee would resent the first 


92 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


disparaging word she spoke of Georgie. So she 
was obliged to swallow her rage. 

Lee placed his hat and coat on a chair and 
prepared to make himself comfortable, while she 
was wondering how she could escape to her 
room, in order to make herself more presentable. 

She knew that if she moved he would see that 
she was minus most of her hair; the greater 
part of it being at that moment gracefully repos- 
ing on her dressing table. Try as she would, 
however, she could think of no reasonable excuse 
to send him out of the room, so she gave it up 
in despair and settled back among her cushions 
with a deep sigh. 

^‘I’m awfully sorry to find you so miserable,” 
he said sympathetically, mistaking the meaning 
of her respiration. “Don’t you think you had 
better see a doctor? There must be one in the 
hotel. You may get worse if you don’t.” 

She shook her head languidly. 

“I don’t feel particularly ill,” she murmured^ 
“but I’ve got the ‘blues’ I imagine. It’s so tire- 
some to be in the house alone all the time. Even 
my buoyant nature cannot always stand the 
pressure.” 

“But Georgie is generally with you, isn’t she ?” 


A SOCIAL METEOK 


93 


Another shake. 

‘‘She knows so many people here, you know, 
that she spends most of her time returning their 
calls.’’ 

Lee looked astonished. 

“Why, I thought you both came here for a com- 
plete rest,” he said, “and didn’t intend to do any 
entertaining.” 

“So did I,” she replied. “I was on the go so 
much last month, that I thought a change — a 
complete change, would benefit me. But I didn’t 
bargain for company all day. It ia quite as 
laborious to entertain here as at home.” 

“More so, I should fancy. But whom does she 
have, men or women ?” 

“Oh, both,” innocently, “not many men to be 
sure, but one or two come quite frequently.” 

The angry scowl which appeared on his fore- 
head showed her that she had scored. 

“I cannot understand,” he began, “why she 
should wish to see people here, when she was 
apparently so indifferent to it in Philadelphia. 
It’s remarkable.” 

“It is odd,” she returned. “But look,” picking 
up half a dozen cards from the table and holding 
them up to him ; “these came yesterday.” 


94 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


He took them and glanced them over, and 
then, as if ashamed of having suspected her, even 
for a moment, he flung them down impatiently. 

“It’s her own business whom she receives here, 
I suppose,” he said, shortly, “and I’ve no right to 
interfere.” 

“Of course,” she admitted, sweetly. “Only,” 
determined to send a parting shaft, “it seems 
strange, as you say, that she should wish to see 
people here when she seemed to care so little 
about it when she was with me. Still, it’s not 
my place^to find fault with her.” 

“I wouldn’t care how many women Georgie 
had come to see her,” he observed, returning to 
the subject a little later, “but I don’t think she 
ought to have men running here. I’m not 
jealous, but it isn’t the thing.” 

“That’s just what I think. But of course I 
can’t say a word to her. Her grandmother, who 
sees a great deal of her, should do that. She’s 
not my guest now, you know. Besides, she 
receives her friends alone, as a rule; I seldom 
come into the room.” 

He paced up and down thoughtfully two or 
three time without speaking, Ray watching him 
slyly all the while under her half-closed eyelids. 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


95 


Finally lie stopped in front of her and rousing 
himself suddenly said, half appealingly : 

“Ray, do you think it possible that she could 
be two-faced ? ” 

Mrs. Thome started as though such a thought 
had never occurred to her. 

“Oh, I’m sure, I hope not,” she answered 
promptly, with a great show of sincerity. “That 
would be terrible. But,” lowering her eyes and 
lifting them again as if uncertain whether to 
proceed or not, “I’ll tell you one thing, Lee, and 
that is, that if I had to do it over again I don’t 
think I would try to throw you two together. I’m 
afraid it was a blunder on my part.” 

He looked positively alarmed. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, dropping 
heavily into a chair beside her, with a strange 
sinking of the heart. 

“Well, simply that I really can’t make up my 
mind that she will make you the sort of a wife 
you believe she will,” answered Ray. “She 
doesn’t appear to return your love as I would like 
to see her. She seems so half-hearted, so cold, 
and she rarely mentions your name to me except 
in the most casual, commonplace way. Still, it 
may turn out all right, when you’ve seen more of 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


96 

each other; I dare say it will. Only/Maying her 
hand upon his arm and speaking very gently, “if 
she is so indiiferent now, she may positively 
neglect you after marriage. That’s what I 
fear.” 

“Oh I trust not,” he replied, rather coldly. 
“You know there are some people who feel a 
great deal without being able to show it. I don’t 
usually attach much importance to exhibitions of 
affection and I detest gush,” unintentionally 
giving her a stab. “Georgie is no silly school- 
girl, but, by Heaven, if I thought there was no 
chance of her ever returning the love I feel for 
her, I would give her up like a shot.” 

Just at this juncture the door opened, and the 
subject of their conversation entered the room. 


A aOCIAL METEOR, 


97 


CHAPTER VII. 

MRS. THORNE CRITICISED. 

In the meantime, Georgie had started out to 
make some calls. 

There were not very many, but she knew it 
was best for her to finish them all up as soon as 
possible, as it was pretty safe to conclude that 
Ray would decide to return to Philadelphia in a 
day or two, and she might not have another op- 
portunity to get out alone. 

She determined to go to her ‘ grandmother’s 
first, and deliver her invitation for the evening in 
person. 

It was a bitter day, and before she had gone a 
block she began to regret that she had not worn 
a vail, for the frosty air nipped her cheeks and 
ears unmercifully. 

On Broadway the pedestrians hurried along as 
if anxious to get out of the biting wind. 

In spite of the cold, however, groups of street- 
urchins gathered on the comers, trying to sell 
their cheap wares, or stood gazing wistfully into 


98 


A SOCIAL METEOii. 


the store windows at the gay holiday goods dis- 
played there. 

Wretched-looking women, leading ill-clad, sad- 
faced little children, besieged the passers-by, 
begging, more or less successfully, for ^‘a few 
pennies to buy bread.’’ 

The stage-drivers, muffled up to the chin, 
showed only their quick, watchful eyes and the 
tips of their rosy noses as they drove clattering 
along, swinging their arms to keep up the circu- 
lation. 

Men and women, laden with mysterious bundles 
which assumed grotesque shapes under their 
brown paper wrappings, hastened up and down 
the streets, on Christmas thoughts intent. 

Georgie shivered a little as she turned into 
Fifth avenue, for the wind struck her full in the 
face, and she was glad to find herself in the close, 
warm atmosphere of Mrs. Wheatley’s spacious 
drawing-room. 

She found the old lady confined to her room 
with an attack of rheumatism so severe that she 
could not put her foot to the floor. 

“Dear me, grandma,” said she, “this is really 
too bad, and I was going to ask you and Uncle 
Harry to a play to-night.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


99 


SO sorry, dearie,” answered Mrs. Wheat- 
ley. ‘‘But, you see, it’s out of the question ; the 
doctor says I mayn’t be out in a week. Besides, 
your uncle has an appointment with his lawyer 
after dinner; I heard him say so.” 

This announcement rather dashed cold water 
upon Georgie’s plan, for how was she going to 
fill a box properly at a moment’s notice ? She 
was still puzzling her brain with this question 
when it was time for her to leave. 

Mrs. Wheatley insisted upon sending for her 
carriage to take Georgie on the rest of her visits, 
saying that it was but an act of Christian charity, 
on such a day, and besides, her horses really 
needed the exercise; so, although Georgie de- 
murred a little at first at causing so much 
trouble, she was not sorry to be protected from 
the piercing cold, and warmly wrapped up inside 
of the daintiest of broughams. 

She found Mrs. B. and Mrs. C. out, for which 
she was inwardly thankful, although she smiled 
the customary polite little smile, and expressed 
herself as “so sorry,” when she handed the bits 
of pasteboard in at the door. 

Her last call was made in Washington square, 
on an old school friend, who had married a man 


100 


A tVCiAL METEOR. 


at least thirty years her senior, a cross-grained, 
hot-tempered old fellow, with plenty of money 
and a fondness for display, both of which his 
young wife shared with him. Their house was 
superbly furnished, their turn-outs eminently 
“correct,” and their servants mere automatons, 
without apparently a thought or an idea outside 
of their several duties. Her gowns were marvels 
of loveliness, and she was free to come and go as 
she pleased, so long as she added honor and glory 
to the name of her husband, and did not bring 
even the shadow of a suspicion upon herself by 
any outward flirtations with “boys.” 

Her “set” regarded her with envy, and pro- 
nounced her the most fortunate of women, to 
which observation she listened with a well-trained 
smile, thereby strengthening the general opinion 
as to her perfect, unalloyed happiness. 

If, indeed, at times her heart beat heavily under 
her Redfern bodice when the bliss of two lovers 
came under her notice, she soon managed to change 
the sigh lingering on her lips into a sneer at such 
“foolishness,” and thank her lucky stars that there 
was not an ounce of sentmzent in her whole compo- 
sition. Or, if the rasping tones of her lord and mas- 
ter occasionally brought to her mind the fact that 


A SOCIAL METjlOK 


101 


she was no better than his slave, and caused her 
to shed hot, bitter tears, no one knew it, for she 
took excellent care never to show her face, even 
to her most intimate friends, unless it was bright 
and cheerful. She was well aware that society 
laughs a very cruel laugh at weakness and fawns 
at the feet of strength. 

Georgie had always liked this girl, and still 
took an interest in her. She had been frank and 
impulsive before her marriage, and the change in 
her condition had not appeared to alter her nature 
to any great extent. She was a little more re- 
served than formerly perhaps, and less apt to 
express her opinions, but she remained the same 
generous, kind-hearted girl, in spite of the num- 
berless opportunities she had to become selfish 
and dictatorial. 

Georgie was told that Mrs. Templeton was at 
home, and a few moments later a slight, sweet- 
faced woman of about twenty-four danced into the 
room. 

The kiss she bestowed on Georgie’s cheek was 
very genuine, and her voice was entirely free 
from the silly affectations so in vogue with our 
society women nowadays. 

“I was so sorry we were out when you called,’’ 


102 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


said Georgia, after their greetings were over, and 
Mrs. Templeton had thrown herself in a care- 
lessly picturesque position on the sofa. 

“So was I; but I just ran in while I was out 
shopping. I thought I might perhaps catch you 
before you went to luncheon. I saw you yester- 
day, though. I was in Delmonico’s, and you 
passed by. I suppose that was Mrs. Thome with 
you ? A pretty little woman, with painted eyes.” 

Georgia could not help laughing at her frank- 
ness. 

“I see you’re as impudent as ever,” she ex- 
claimed. “However, I shouldn’t be surprised if 
she did tint them a little. But that’s nothing 
now, ever so many women do.” 

“She rouges, too. I could see it even from 
where I sat,” declared Mrs. Templeton. 

“Nineteen women out of twenty do that,” re- 
turned Georgia. 

“I don’t,” said Mrs. Templeton, decidedly. 

“No, you wouldn’t be bothered ; you’re too lazy. 
Besides, you’re blessed with a good color. You 
don’t know what you might do if you were pale 
and sallow.” 

“That’s very true,” admitted Mrs. Templeton, 
candidly. “As I feel now, though, I wouldn’t do 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


103 


it for anything ; I think it’s a disgusting practice, 
don’t you ?” 

^‘It isn’t nice; still, I don’t suppose it’s any 
worse than false hair. But aside from the fact 
Ray may ‘make up’ her face, what did you think 
of her ?” 

“Oh, she’s cute and quite tasty,” answered Mrs. 
Templeton, carelessly. “She reminds me of a 
little French doll.” 

“I think she’s beautiful,” observed Georgie, 
enthusiastically, “and her manners are charming. 
Every one likes her.” 

“I don’t doubt at all that she’s exceedingly fas- 
cinating. But do you know,” Mrs. Templeton 
continued, examining the lace on the edge of her 
sleeve critically, “I’m positive I shouldn’t fancy 
her particularly.” She finished her remark in a 
half-hesitating, half-apologetic tone. 

“Why, how could you tell, from one little 
glance at her?” asked Georgie, with a slight show 
of impatience. 

“I couldn’t, of course, to any certainty,” ac- 
knowledged her friend, “but we cannot always 
account for the impressions we receive. I should 
imagine Mrs. Thorne to be — well, what shall I 
call it ? Not very sincere.” 


104 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


“Indeed, you’re altogether wrong,” said Georgie, 
shortly; “she’s a most devoted friend.” 

“That may be. I only tell you what my im- 
pression of her was. You asked me, and I can’t 
help telling you what I think.” 

“No, of course not. I did ask your opinion, 
and I must take it.” 

“Certainly, for what it’s worth,” rejoined Mrs. 
Templeton, good-naturedly. “I’ll explain to you 
why I think as I do. Mrs. Thorne has a manner 
of holding herself, and rather a conceited way, I 
thought, which gave me the impression that she 
would do anything to draw attention to herself, 
and women who constantly crave admiration are 
apt to be very indifferent friends, I’ve discovered. 
But let’s drop the subject. I don’t know Mrs. 
Thorne, and have seen her only once; conse- 
quently I have no right to judge her. Perhaps if 
I ever met her I should fall in love with her, like 
all the rest. How did you leave Mrs. Clarke ? 
She was ill the last time I visited your house, you 
remember.” 

And so the conversation drifted from one thing 
to another until the clock struck four, when 
Georgie rose with a start. 

“Dear me,” she exclaimed, “ I must hurry off. 


A SOCIAL MEIL’OR 


105 


this instant. I’ll never get home if I don’t go 
now, and we have an engagement for this eve- 
ning.” 

When she was rolling swiftly toward Broadway, 
which was now a blaze of light from the bril- 
liantly illuminated store windows, she could not 
help reverting in her mind to the remarks which 
Mrs. Templeton had made concerning Ray. 

“It seems to be the general opinion that Ray 
is frivolous and fond of admiration,” she solilo- 
quized, “and I’m beginning to believe she is, 
myself But that she’s untrustworthy, I don’t 
belie v^e. She may be vain and small in a good 
many ways, but I think she’s very strong in her 
friendships.” 

As the carriage approached Tiffany’s, she mo- 
tioned the drivel to stop. 

A few days before Ray had gone into raptures 
over a diamond and sapphire ring, which she 
undoubtedly would have bought then and there, 
had she not considered the price a little too high 
for her purse, especially now, when she “really 
needed so many other things.” 

Georgie thought this would be a good oppor- 
tunity to please Ray, and at the” same time to 
make her a little peace-offering to show that she^ 


106 


A ^SOCIAL METEOR. 


at any rate, bore no ill-feeling on account of the 
disagreement of the morning before. Her con- 
science troubled her a little, too, for the unkind 
thoughts which she had had of Ray. She was a 
quick-tempered little creature, and so accustomed 
to having her own way that she had become con- 
vinced she ought always to have it ; she really 
meant no harm, and then she had begged pardon 
for her bad behavior so prettily; just like a 
petted, spoiled child. Perhaps she had been a 
little hard on her, for Ray was the best-inten- 
tioned vroman in the world, and nobody could 
persuade her to the contrary. 

So she argued with herself as she made her 
way through the crowded store to where the cov- 
eted jewel was. 

It was the work of but a few moments to select 
it from the velvet bed which it shared with 
dozens of others, pay the price, and re-enter the 
carriage. 

As she alighted at her hotel, she started a little 
at the sight of a figure just in front of her. It 
was only a man in a long, heavy overcoat, which 
he wore unbuttoned and thrown open in a very 
imprudent fashion, considering the state of the 
thermometer, but there was something very 


A iiOCIAZ METEOR. 


107 


familiar in his appearance. She drew back hast- 
ily, to let him pass, hoping he had not noticed 
her. But she had made a false estimate of her 
own charms, for with the quick, almost imperti- 
nent stare which is the characteristic of most 
young club men when a pretty woman is around, 
he stepped toward her, and, after raising his hat, 
held out his hand and said, warmly : 

“Why, how-do-you-do ? This is very pleasant, 
I’m sure. Are you stopping at the Hoffman ?” 

This very commonplace greeting affected her 
strangely. She grew dizzy and faint as her cold 
fingers came in contact with his warm ones. Her 
eyes rested on the diamond in his extensive 
shirt-front, and could get no farther. Yet she 
controled her voice, and said, quite calmly : 

“Yes, I’m here with Mrs. Thorne.” 

“Ah, is she a pretty little woman with yellow 
hair ?” he asked. “I remember her perfectly. I 
should be charmed to call, if I may. How long 
are you going to be in the city ? I should like 
to see something of you.” 

He spoke carelessly, gayly, as if he were 
addressing some acquaintance whom he had 
accidentally run across, and whom he was, on the 
whole, rather glad to see. 


108 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


^‘You’re looking remarkably well,’’ he went 
on ; “in fact, I never saw you looking better. 
But you’re cold — you’re actually shivering; I 
mustn’t keep you standing out here. Let’s step 
inside. Or, were you on your way to keep some 
engagement ?” 

Influenced by his manner, Georgie speedily 
recovered her equanimity, and replied to his 
question quite naturally : 

“I was going up stairs to our rooms, ”*she said ; 
“we expect company to dinner, but I hardly think 
our guest has arrived yet. Won’t you come up 
and speak to Mrs. Thorne ?” 

She uttered these words with studied politeness, 
expecting of course that he would decline her 
invitation and go his way, after putting her in 
the elevator or seeing her to the foot of the stairs. 
To her surprise, however, he replied that nothing 
would give him greater pleasure, provided he 
would not intrude. So there was nothing for her 
to do except to allow him to accompany her. 

He chatted in his usual pleasant tones until 
the elevator boy opened the door and let them out 
at their landing. 

As they walked down the hall Georgie was 
y^ondering how Ray would take this unexpected 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


109 


visit. No doubt she was dressing and would be 
annoyed at any interruption, as her toilet was 
usually the result of hours of patient toil on 
Annette’s part. When she did emerge from 
her dressing room, however, powdered and 
perfumed, she was certainly “a thing of beauty,” 
and as her appearance had much to do with the 
state of her disposition, she was a “joy” as long 
as her loveliness lasted. But when the wear and 
tear of an evening’s amusement robbed her of 
her “pristine freshness” or some awkward person 
stepped on her train, thereby spoiling the hang 
of her gown, her amiability soon vanished, and 
it was the devoted long suffering Annette who 
generally bore the brunt of my lady’s temper, 
when tired and cross, she dragged herself up to 
bed. 

Annette could tell how much of madam’s 
complexion was put on. 

Annette could also tell how much of madam’s 
sweetness was assumed. 

But Annette was only a “superior lady’s maid,” 
and no one thought for a moment of interview- 
ing her on the subject. And had any one seen 
fit to do so it is very doubtful whether Annette 
would have done anything but elevate her broad 


110 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


eyebrows and reply with a shrug as French as 
herself, that madam was the ^^most perfect of 
mistresses and as natural as the day ; ’’ for, as I 
have already said, this girl was devoted to Mrs. 
Thome. 

Again, Ray might still be lying down, sleeping 
off the morning’s indisposition, and if so it would 
be most unkind to awake her. 

Georgie racked her brain, but could not decide 
what it was best to do. She heartily wished that 
she had not said anything to him about coming 
up stairs, or at least, that she had left him in the 
parlor until she found out what sort of a recep- 
tion he would be apt to get. 

However, it was too late to hesitate any longer, 
and so she gently opened the reception-room door 
to see if the coast was clear. She made up her 
mind to send him away at once with very few 
words if Mrs. Thorne was not in condition to 
receive him. She motioned him to wait outside 
a moment, and then advanced softly into the 


room. 


A SOCIAL MJST£OIi. 


Ill 


CHAPTER VIII. 

MR. NEI.SON. 

Ray, concluding at once that Georgia had over- 
heard Lee’s last words and would ask an expla- 
nation, determined to put on a bold front and make 
the best of her /aujv pas. She drew herself up 
and w^as preparing to defend herself at Georgia’s 
first aggressive word, when she suddenly had a 
thought. 

The room was almost dark, as Lee had not 
been there more than half an hour, and winter 
days are so short. Therefore, a person coming 
in from the hall would be quite unable to dis- 
tinguish one object from another in it at first, and 
as they had been talking in low tones on account 
of the maid in the next chamber, there was a 
possibility that Georgie had noticed nothing. So 
with ready aplomb she exclaimed : 

“Oh, my dear, is that you ? I thought you 
were never coming back. I’ve been asleep all 
the afternoon and was only awakened a little 
while ago by hearing a knock at the door. Think- 


112 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


ing of course that it was James, I said ‘come inj 
and who should enter but our good friend Lee. 
I was so surprised that I could scarcely speak, 
but it seems you expected him and said nothing 
about it to me, you naughty girl. But let us 
have some light on the subject, as this darkness 
is heathenish. Annette has completely deserted 
me, and I really can’t move without assistance.” 

Then seeing by Georgie’s face that she appar- 
ently had heard nothing, she sank back among 
her pillows with a little sigh of relief, while Lee, 
having found a match, and applied it to the gas- 
jet, came eagerly forward to shake hands. 

“I didn’t intend to be gone so long, but I 
couldn’t help it,” said Georgie, after greeting 
Lee cordially. “However, it’s all right, I sup- 
pose, as no doubt you two have been chatting 
about Philadelphia, and time has flown.” 

“Yes, we have,” returned Ray, promptly. “But 
tell me why did you do such a stupid thing as to 
ask Lee here and never mention it to me? You 
put me in such a ridiculous position ; he came in 
and found me asleep on the sofa.” 

Georgie laughed merrily. 

“Really?” she exclaimed, “what a joke; and 
did he wake you as the prince did the sleeping 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


113 


beauty ? I should have done so, had I been he. 
But to explain ; I telegraphed Lee yesterday to 
come, and we would dine and go to a play to- 
night. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise 
for you, Ray. By the way, how are you now ? 
Better, I hope, for I’ve brought some one with 
me.” 

“A visitor ? How could you, when you know 
I’m not prepared to see a soul !” exclaimed Ray, 
in dismay. 

“You look all right, really. Quite interesting, 
doesn’t she, Lee? I met this person just at the 
foot of the stairs, and he insisted upon coming up 
to speak to you. He’s in the hall now. May I 
call him?” 

“But first tell me his name. I positively will 
not see a stranger in this wrapper,” persisted 
Ray, childishly. 

“He’s not a stranger, and I know you’ll be 
glad to see him ; besides, he insisted upon paying 
his respects to you, as I say. Shall I open the 
door?” 

“Yes, 1 suppose so,” replied Ray, shortly, 
though in reality she felt somewhat curious. 
“It’s mean to keep any one waiting outside. But 
honestly (thinking this a good opportunity to 


114 


A SOCIAI METEOR. 


Strengthen the impression she had given Lee), 
yon might consult my wishes occasionally, my 
dear, and not have people running here at un- 
heard-of hours, and finding me half-dressed. Just 
lower the gas and light the lamps, won’t you? 
Then perhaps my negligee won’t be noticed so 
much. That rose shade, so. Now fix this shawl 
for me, please. That’s all. Thanks.” 

Georgie patiently obeyed all her rather tartly 
given directions, and then opened the door and 
ushered in Jack. 

‘‘Mrs. Thorne, you remember Mr. Nelson, do 
you not ? He wanted so much to see you, that 
I could not refuse him. Mr. Grant, Mr. Nel- 
son.” 

Ray started as Georgie uttered these words, 
and then nodded smilingly, murmuring that she 
remembered Mr. Nelson very well indeed. 

Mr. Grant merely inclined his head, but did 
not move. Jack, who had a happy faculty of 
making himself at home in any society, immedi- 
ately launched into a conversation with Ray, 
which included the other two, and by that means 
preventing any great exhibition of coolness on 
the part of either. 

Presently Georgie arose and said she must 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


115 


change her dress for dinner, casting an inquiring 
look at Ray as she did so. But that young 
woman, immensely pleased with the bright re- 
marks and genial presence of Mr. Nelson, refused 
to meet her glance as she replied : 

“Very well, my love. I will take care of the 
men while you are gone. Then I’ll go and let 
Annette touch me up a little, for I really don’t 
feel equal to dressing. And Mr. Nelson must 
stay to dinner, must he not ? We’ll let James 
serve it here, and have the coziest time, all by 
ourselves.” 

“But we were going to the theater,” said 
Georgie, coldly. 

“Indeed, I’m not able to go out to-night,” re- 
turned Ray, stubbornly ; “I couldn’t walk to the 
carriage if my life depended upon it, I assure 
you. Let’s stay here and have a jolly evening 
by ourselves. Parties of four are ever so much 
nicer than parties of three. I hate to play goose- 
berry. You will dine with us, Mr. Nelson, will 
you not ?” accompanying her words with a plead- 
ing look. 

“You’re very kind, Mrs. Thome,” replied Jack, 
“and I should be delighted, only I promised to 
dine at the club at seven.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


116 

“But you’ll break your engagement, I know, 
when you reflect that you’ll take me out of a most 
tiresome position, that of playing propriety to 
these two. I hate to be responsible for anybody’s 
behavior, but with your assistance I’m sure it 
won’t be half so bad.” 

“If Miss Wheatley is of the same mind,” 
responded Jack, doubtfully. 

“I should be delighted of course,” uttered 
Georgie with freezing politeness. 

“Good. Now I’ll have a decent evening,” cried 
Ray, clapping her hands like a pleased child, “I 
had anticipated such a slow one. I expected to 
fall asleep over my coffee.” 

But Jack, noticing at once the lack of cordial- 
ity on Georgie’s part, made up his mind that he 
had better keep his first engagement, notwith- 
standing Mrs. Thorne’s pressing invitation. 

So, starting suddenly, as if just reminded of 
something, he exclaimed : 

“By Jove ! I had quite forgotten a most import- 
ant business engagement I had with my brother- 
in-law. It’s twenty minutes past the time now,” 
consulting his watch, “and he will be furious when 
I find him. I’m really dreadfully sorry, but after 


A SOCIAL METkOU. 117 

all it will be impossible for me to dine with you 
to-night.” 

He noted the look of disappointment which 
came into Ray’s face, as well as the look of relief 
which passed over Georgie’s when he said this. 

It piqued him a little to think that she, whose 
eyes used to glisten with pleasure at his coming, 
should now shun his society, and find excuses to 
keep out of his way, and as he put on his over- 
coat, he could not refrain from saying, turning to 
Mrs. Thorne: 

should be pleased though if you would all 
dine with me to-morrow night.” 

Once more Ray’s face lighted up with hope. 
Here then was another opportunity to see this 
charming fellow again, and, provided Georgie 
would not be stupid enough to frown his invita- 
tion down, she might have a little fun before 
she left this tiresome place for home. So, without 
waiting for her to answer, she burst out : 

“I know I should be only too glad, Mr. Nelson. 
We live like hermits here and a dinner some- 
where else would be such a novelty and a dissi- 
pation that I don’t believe I should survive 
it. But I’d like to try it, nevertheless, and 
Georgie would too, I’m sure, wouldn’t you 


118 


A SOCrAZ METEOR. 


cherie?” turning to Miss Wheatley with her 
most “fetching” smile. 

Georgie replied in the same coldly polite tone 
as before: 

“Certainly, Ray, if Mr. Grant has nothing on 
hand for to-morrow evening, we can go.” 

She rather hoped Mr. Grant would notice her 
reluctance and plead a previous engagement, but 
he bowed slightly, and expressed himself as 
entirely at the service of the ladies. Ray, 
charmed to see that things were likely to run 
according to her liking at last, determined to 
clinch matters then and there and leave no loop- 
hole for Georgie to slip out of 

“Then it’s all settled, Mr. Nelson,” she said 
decidedly, “and we won’t disappoint you. But 
where shall it be ? Can’t you suggest some real 
Bohemian place, where we can be quite by our- 
selves ?” 

“Let me see,” replied Jack ; “what do you say 
to Mount St. Vincent ? They get up very nice 
little dinners there and it will be less stiff than 
here.” 

“Capital,” cried Ray, gleefully. “I’ve never 
been there, and it will be a novelty for me at 
least.” 


A SOCJAZ METEOR. 


119 


“Then you’ll leave everything to me ? About 
what time shall I stop for you ? It would be 
pleasanter for us all to go up together, I think, 
as it’s quite a drive and we might have to wait 
for each other.” 

“Of course. How would six o’clock suit you, 
Georgie ?” 

“As well as any other time.” 

“Then I’ll be here at six.” 

He bade them good-night, lingering a moment 
over Ray’s hand, and was gone. 

It would have been evident to the most unin- 
terested observer that neither Georgie nor Lee 
relished the prospect of this dinner, and Ray, who 
was by no means blind, quickly realized this fact, 
but she was so bent upon having her own way 
that she was determined to brave them both, if 
necessary. 

Of course it would have been much pleasanter 
if they had shown even the least particle of en- 
thusiasm, and she thought it exceedingly selfish 
of them to stand there like mutes, leaving her to 
do all the talking and arranging; but go she 
would, at any cost. She did not like the expres- 
sion of Lee’s mouth as the door closed upon Jack, 
and she plainly foresaw that there was going to 


120 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


be a scene, unless sbe was clever enough to pre- 
vent it. So while his back was turned she escaped 
to her room. 

She knew that this was a cowardly thing to do, 
as Lee would undoubtedly unburden himself to 
Georgie, and owing to the false impressions she 
had given him earlier in the afternoon, he 
was certain to make some disagreeable remarks to 
her. However, she was sure that Georgie would 
stand up for her, and equally so that Lee would 
not betray what she had told him ; adding to that 
the fact that Lee was so desperately in love that 
he would listen to whatever his fiancee might say, 
and to allow matters to be smoothed over she felt 
that she had pursued the best course open to her. 

Nevertheless, she glued her ear to the crack of 
the door, ready to run in whenever she was in 
danger of receiving a “black eye.” She did not 
care how bitterly they felt toward each other, or 
how much suffering her misrepresentations might 
cause either or both of them, but she must be pro- 
tected at any cost. With her, self-preservation 
was indeed the first law of nature. 

She clasped her hands on the door-knob and 
leaned her face upon them, waiting anxiously for 
the first words which she naturally supposed 


A SOCIAL MElEOli. 


121 


would come from Lee. How great was her relief 
just then to hear him step to the door in answer 
to James’ knock and say, after exchanging a few 
words with Georgie : 

“Very well. Show him up.” 

Another caller. What kind fate had sent him 
here just in the nick of time ? He would be made 
most welcome by her, whoever he might be. 

She rang hastily for Annette and began to 
brush her hair with nervous fingers before the 
mirror. A moment later Georgie looked into the 
room and announced that Peter Persuade was 
coming upstairs. 

“And do please hurry and get into your dress, 
won’t you ?” she added, “as I must take my hat 
and jacket off, and it won’t do to keep him waiting 
long.” 

“Yes, love, of course I will,” answered Ray, 
actually trembling with joy at this most fortunate 
interruption and determining to use all her powers 
to keep the angel of deliverance to dinner. “I’ll 
be ready in a second. You go right along, and 
take your time in dressing, and I’ll entertain him 
until you come. Mind, don’t hurry now, and if 
you want Annette to help, you just call her.” 

She thrust her arms hastily into a pretty tea- 


122 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


gown of old gold plush which the maid held for 
her, and never said an impatient word all the time 
she was twisting and pinning her hair on the top 
of her head. And when Annette informed her 
that the new bronze slippers which she had or- 
dered the day before had not yet arrived, she 
merely said, quite amiably : 

“Then give me my black ones ; only be quick.” 

She did not even stop to put on the usual touch 
of rouge, contenting herself with brushing the 
powder-puff once or twice lightly across her face, 
and in a short ten minutes she walked into the 
next room where the two men were sitting. 

“What in the name of all that’s outlandish 
brought you here, Peter ?” she cried, gayly. “And 
how did you discover our hiding place ?” 

“Oh, I found out easily,, and as I always 
try to keep an eye open for Georgie, I thought I 
would look you up,” he answered. “You are 
well?” 

Peter Persuade was a strange fellow ; in fact, 
a character in his way. He had seen the frosts 
and snows of over forty winters, but refused to 
acknowledge more than thirty-two, knowing that 
with his fine physique and ruddy, boyish com- 
plexion, he would readily be believed, and deter- 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


123 


mining to make the most of the goods the gods 
provided. 

He was a man who had knocked about a great 
deal and seen some fumy sights, as he would tell 
you, with a merry twinkle in his eyes. Two for- 
tunes had melted away in his hands, with noth- 
ing to show for them. Where they had gone, or ' 
who had been benefited by his loss, no one 
knew, as he apparently had no habits of dissipa- 
tion, being very moderate generally in his use of 
tobacco and liquor, and caring but little for the 
society of any women, excepting a few intimate 
friends. Once a year regularly, however, he dis- 
appeared from sight, quietly and always alone ; 
but where he went or what he did, nobody could 
ever find out, though during the past twenty 
years more than one person had tried hard to dis- 
cover. He would return in about three months, 
attend to his business, resume his old pursuits, 
and never refer to his trips ; to any one bold 
enough to ask, he would always reply that he 
had been “traveling.’’ Queer tales, concerning 
those mysterious absences of his, floated around 
once in a while, but as the narrators never got 
beyond “they say” or “I don’t know how true it 
is, but” — they were seldom given much credence. 


124 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


One story, however, which was generally lis- 
tened to with interest, was to the effect ' that he 
ow^ned a tiny country-seat, just outside of New 
York, which he yearly filled with gay companions, 
whom he entertained splendidly for the length 
of time he staid with them. Games of chance 
of all kinds were indulged in, and huge sums of 
money lost and won. But if this was true, he 
took his losses or winning with wonderful equa- 
nimity, for his countenance when he came back 
was as unruffled as when he went away. 

Another was to the effect that early in life he 
had fallen in love, and had been jilted by his 
fair inamorata for a coal king twice her age, and 
of a reclusive disposition. Nine months of the 
year, according to the gossips, she was obliged to 
vegetate in the wilds of Pennsylvania, miles 
away from any town, to suit her husband’s 
notions. But the other three she had her way, 
and settled for that length of time in a beautiful 
house on the Hudson. 

It was said that Peter, who took the vow of 
celibacy after his rejection, was always so affected 
by the sight of her, even after the cruel years had 
robbed her of her beauty, which had cast a spell 
over him at first, that he went away as soon as 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


121 


she took possession of her villa, and did not 
return until she was gone, for fear of meeting 
her. 

This story found more believers than the first, 
because Peter’s own life would seem to bear it 
out, better than the other. He paid almost no 
attention to young women, preferring the com- 
panionship of the wives of his friends, none of 
whom were particularly remarkable for their good 
looks, and whose lives were above suspicion. It 
was the rarest thing in the world for him to ex- 
press even a passing admiration for any girl, and 
if by chance a bright, pretty face attracted him 
once in a while, it was only a question of time 
when he would interest the damsel in some bach- 
elor friend of his, matrimonially inclined. 

He was devoted to his church, which was 
extremely high, and in which he was one of the 
bright and shining lights. He would cross him- 
self in all seriousness on the slightest occasion, 
much to the amusement of his companions, and 
was known to do much good among the poor. 

Another peculiarity of his was his love of early 
rising. Every day, winter and summer, he would 
get up at six o’clock and take long walks, accom- 
panied only by his dogs. When asked for the 


126 


A SOCIAZ METEOR, 


reason of these rambles, he would reply frankly 
that he took them to keep his complexion clear. 
He was a step-uncle of Georgie’s on her mother^s 
side, and had always confessedly liked and ad- 
mired her more than any woman of his acquaint- 
ance. He said she was his ideal of what a girl 
should be, and he always managed to see her 
once or twice a month, at least, no matter where 
she was. 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


127 


CHAPTER IX. 
ray’s good conduct. 

As Mrs. Thorne and Georgie had been friends 
since childhood, Peter, of course, had always seen 
more or less of the former. 

He thought her a nice, bright little creature, 
somewhat vain and conceited, but not more so 
than most pretty women, and, on the whole, 
rather liked her. Knowing how many women 
had vainly tried to bring him to their feet, she 
had at first bent all her efforts to make a con- 
quest of him, thinking it would be a big feather 
in her cap if she could add him to the list of her 
suitors. But she soon discovered that she was 
attempting a hopeless task, and that she was no 
more likely to succeed than the rest, and so she 
wisely turned her attention to Charley Thome, 
who was at that time beginning to cast longing 
eyes at her, and was only too willing to succumb 
to her charms. After the knot was tied and she 
no longer had any reason to worry about the to- 
morrows, she returned to her old tricks and 


128 


A SOCIAL METEOli, 


amused herself as much as she dared, without 
provoking her husband’s wrath, with the young 
men she constantly met in the whirl of society 
in which she lived. Just at present she felt a 
delightful sense of liberty, and she made up her 
mind to do exactly as she chose. All were fish 
who came to her net, and it was one of her prin- 
ciples to scorn no one, not even the most humble 
and unpretending. 

^‘One can never tell what will happen in the 
future,” she said to herself, with a certain amount 
of wisdom. ‘‘Those who are up to-day may be 
down to-morrow, and vice versa^ 

So she chatted with Peter very pleasantly. 
She soon found herself quite interested in his 
talk, which was mostly about the doings in 
Philadelphia since she had left, and where he 
had been staying for the past six weeks. 

He told her of two engagements, which were 
about to be made public, and got her very much 
excited by his description of some tableaux which 
were being arranged on an elaborate scale for 
February, and in which she was booked to appear 
as Mary, Queen of Scots, and Lee as Rizzio. 

“I was commissioned to ask you if you would 
accept the part,” he said. “All you will have to 


A SOCIAL METEOR 


129 


do, you know, is to dress magnificently and look 
tenderly at Lee. Yon won’t refuse, will yon ? 
Every one says yon are just the one for it — yon 
are so fair and he is so dark.” 

“I should like it immensely,” she replied at 
once. “It will be lots of fun. You’ll do it, too, 
Lee, won’t yon ?” 

“My gracious, no!” cried Lee, energetically. 
“My days for such nonsense are over. I should 
feel like a prize fool.” 

Peter threw back his head and laughed. 

“You’re making fun of me,” exclaimed Ray, 
pouting. “I don’t believe my name was ever pro- 
posed for such a character.” 

“No, Ray, it wasn’t,” replied Peter, still grin- 
ning, “I was only playing on your vanity a little. 
You’ll pardon me, won’t you ?” 

“You’re too disgusting to notice,” retorted Ray, 
angrily. But as the two men evidently thought 
it a huge joke she could not refuse to join in the 
laugh which followed. 

Peter and Ray had most of the conversation to 
themselves, however, for Lee’s remarks were few 
and far between, his manner being distrait and 
his thoughts evidently somewhere else. 

It was a relief to all when Georgie joined them, 


130 


A SOCIAL METEon. 


wliicli she did just before dinner was on the table. 

All through the evening Ray’s conduct was ex- 
emplary ; no one could have found a single fault 
with her. She kept the conversational ball a-roll- 
ing all the time and charmed them all by her 
ready wit. She took only a little claret with her 
meal, and did without her customary sip of 
cognac, though she looked longingly toward the 
decanter once or twice. 

She was like a child who hopes by ^‘being good” 
to-day to be rewarded to-morrow. 

She was all sweetness and consideration toward 
Georgie, and tried her best to thaw the ice which 
she felt on both sides of her, but with very indif- 
ferent success. 

Lee was distinctly glum, and Georgie was un- 
usually quiet, eating little and saying less. She 
smiled now and then, however, at some of Peter’s 
nonsense or one of Ray’s bright remarks. Seeing 
that they two were likely to do most of the talk- 
ing, and wishing to lend a helping hand, this 
young man started off on his favorite topic of con- 
versation, money, and became so engrossed in his 
subject that he scarcely ate a morsel. Ray, lean- 
ing her elbows on the table listened to him with 
shining eyes. 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


131 


‘‘I would as lief be dead as absolutely poor/’ he 
observed. 

“What do you mean by ^poor?’ asked Lee, 
somewhat amused. 

“Well, I mean by ‘poor,’ having to struggle for 
a bare existence ; not to be able to buy the lux- 
uries of life — to be obliged to strain every nerve 
to make both ends meet, and ne\er to be above the 
bread-and-butter question. That’s what I call 
poor.” 

“And yet I can conceive of worse things than 
poverty,” remarked Lee. 

“Can you? I can’t. What could be worse 
than having to drudge, year in and year out, 
night and day, for a mere pittance, as some poor 
devils do, to support their families. Sick or well, 
rain or shine, it makes no difference, they must 
be up and away at daylight, hurrying, worrying 
all the time, uncertain as to where their next 
meal is to come from. No pleasures, scarcely a 
moment for recreation. What could be worse ?” 

Lee balanced a teaspoon thoughtfully on his 
forefinger, before he answered. Then, 

“Many things,” he replied. “A guilty con- 
science ; a wife who disgraces your name ; a child 
who is a continual source of trouble to you.” 


132 


A tVCIAZ METEOR. 


Peter shook his head solemnly. 

‘‘You’re wrong, my dear boy, dead wrong,” he 
said. “If your conscience troubles you, travel ; 
change of scene will often work wonders with 
that demon commonly called the blues. Send 
the ungrateful youngster away from home ; re- 
fuse to pay his debts, and then if he doesn’t mend 
his ways, disinherit him and try to forget that he 
ever existed. As for the wife who has no respect 
for you, why, get a divorce from her, and consider 
yourself lucky to be rid of her. All this you can 
do with money. If misfortune comes to you and 
you are rich, a hundred comforters rise up to 
console you. But if you are poor, what then ? 
You may weep until you are blind, for all any 
one cares — you’re of no importance in the world, 
and are unable to feed and amuse society, so why 
should society bother its head about you or your 
woes ? If you’ve once moved within its sacred 
precincts, and it still remembers you, it may pos- 
sibly cast you a pitying glance and tell you it 
sympathizes with you, but does it help you? Oh, 
no, it wraps itself up in its purple and fine linen, 
and gently but firmly pushes you out of its way, 
for there are so many whom it must look after, 
that it has no time to waste upon you. It no 


A SOCIAL METjlOH. 


133 


longer marks you for its own, and consequently 
cannot be expected to take care of you.” 

don’t doubt that there is some truth in what 
you say,” admitted Lee, ^^but I am still of the 
opinion that any one of the misfortunes which I 
have named is worse than poverty. Barrels full 
of gold cannot cure a heart-ache, nor can hosts of 
comforters take away disgrace.” 

“No, but money will soften the rough edges of 
your grief wonderfully, as you’ll find,” returned 
Peter, “and your friends will try to convince you 
that what you are mourning over is not a dis- 
grace, and that you should hold up your head as 
high as ever, and generally they will succeed, for 
mighty few of us are impervious to flattery. The 
touch of soft hands and the sound of sweet voices 
are sure to affect us all, sooner or later, and, with 
most of us, it is sooner.” 

“You seem to speak from. experience,” observed 
Ray, smiling. 

Peter touched a match to his cognac-soaked 
sugar, and watched the blue flame slowly burn 
itself away. 

“Yes,” he replied finally, “I do speak feelingly, 
for I know something about what we’re dis- 
cussing. Experimencia docet, I’ve handled a 


134 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


lot of cash in my day, and IVe known what it is 
to have people court me — and what it is to play 
the gra7id seigneur to mothers who are angling 
for me — and to have half a dozen impecunious 
youths ready to black my boots at a moment’s 
notice merely for the privilege of being in my 
society ; of occupying the footman’s seat on my 
dog-cart. And then,” with a comical little sigh, 
“I’ve seen this golden dream vanish into thin air ; 
I’ve seen the frescoed walls of my apartments 
crumble to pieces with greater rapidity than ever 
Cinderella’s chariot did; I’ve seen the Poole 
suits, with which I paralyzed the Avenue day 
after day, gobbled up by a greasy Jew ; I’ve seen 
the very dames who, a month before, had show- 
ered their sweetest smiles upon me and fairly 
thrust their daughters into my arms, shun me as 
they would the plague, and the striplings who 
copied my clothes, and smoked my cigars, pass 
me by with a hasty nod. Yes, I’ve known and 
seen all this — and have been amused. Money,” 
lifting his coffee-cup and holding it half-way be- 
tween the table and his lips, “to use the words of 
an old woman who came to me for assistance this 
morning, hs a very comfortable article to have in 
the house of a cold winter’s night. It will make 


A SOCIAL METEOR 


135 


the fire burn and the kettle boil when nothing 
else will.’ ” 

And he drained his cup and set it down. 

“I agree with you, Peter,” remarked Ray, seri- 
ously. “Give me money and I will take my 
chances with everything else. I should never 
know another happy hour if I were to become 
poor. I’m sure of it. They say there is nothing 
more dreadful than to find yourself beggared after 
a life of ease and affluence, but I don’t believe it ; 
I think it’s much worse for one Y^ho enjoys the 
good things of life after years of poverty, to have 
to come down, for he knows just what he has to 
go through with, all over again, and the anticipa- 
tion alone, must cause him perfect agony. At 
any rate, it would be so with me. I haven’t 
always been fed on ^sweetmeats,’ as Charley would 
say ; it’s only since my marriage that I’ve been 
able to buy without counting the cost, and if that 
privilege were to be taken away from me now, I 
should die. I know I should. Let any misfor- 
tune threaten, loss of friends or reputation, sick- 
ness, even death itself ; I could stand anything^ 
but to be deprived of the means with which to 
surround myself with all that to me, makes life 
worth living.” 


136 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


She had warmed up to her subject, and was 
quite excited. Her eyes were moist, and the lace 
at her throat rose and fell with her quick, short 
breathing. 

“Horrors exclaimed Georgie, holding up her 
hands, “how you do talk.” 

“She speaks from her heart,” asserted Lee, 
quietly. 

“Yes,” said Ray, “I do speak from my heart. 
You see,” laughing a little, softly, “I am no 
advocate of ‘bread and cheese and kisses.’ ” 

“But you believe in love, do you not?” asked 
Georgie. 

“Love ? Why certainly,” answered Ray, “but 
I should always find it quite as easy to interest 
myself in a person who could be with me when- 
ever I wished to see him, as in one who could 
devote to me only such meager half hours as he 
could spare from his ‘business.’ Life and love 
are both too short to be taken piecemeal.” 

“You want all or none, then,” suggested Peter, 
dryly. 

“Yes, everything or nothing,” replied Ray, 
steadily. 

About ten o’clock, Ray said that on account of 
her indisposition of the morning she thought it 


A SOCIAL MElL'OJi. 


137 


would be best for her to retire early, and pres- 
ently the two men rose to go. 

“By the way, Persuade, where are you stop- 
ping ?” asked Lee. 

“At the Fifth Avenue.” 

“Good. So am I. We’ll walk around together. 
Have a cigar, old man.” 

Ray, leaning on Georgie’s shoulder, watched 
Lee pull on his gloves. 

“Then we’ll see you to-morrow a little before 
six,” she said, as he buttoned the last button. 

His face fell. 

“Not before?” he asked. “Mayn’t I come 
around to luncheon ?” 

“No, please, for I’ve lots of things to attend 
to, and shall be busy all the morning,” answered 
Ray. 

“But, Georgie, you’ll be at liberty, won’t you?” 

“No,” replied Ray, without giving the young 
girl a chance to answer,” “she’s going out with 
me, and we both want to rest in the afternoon. 
You can manage to occupy yourself somehow 
until the evening, can’t you ? Tell him he must, 
cherie.” 

Then, as Georgie still made no reply, Lee 
slowly took up his cane and said ; 


138 A SOCIAL METEOR. 

“Very well, then, good-by until to-morrow.’’ 

It was Ray’s custom every night when she was 
ready for bed, to come into Georgie’s room for a 
little chat and a final toasting before the fire. 
But to-night, everything was quiet next door, and 
Georgie wondered if she intended to come in and 
bid her good-night. Besides, she thought 
Annette was lingering much longer than ordi- 
narily over her mistress’ night toilet. 

At last she heard the maid go out and softly 
close the door after her. 

This astonished and angered Georgie at the 
same time. It was evident that Ray did not de- 
sire to talk with her that night, and so took this 
means of getting out of it. It was so small and 
cowardly of her. She knew that she had acted 
selfishly, and believed that by hiding her head, 
like the ostrich, no harm could come to her. 

Georgie sat gazing at the logs burning in the 
fire-place, for a quarter of an hour after this, think- 
ing and trying to make up her mind what it was 
best for her to do about this dinner, for she was 
fully resolved that it should not take place. 

But what could she say to Ray ? If she had 
not the delicacy to see herself that it was a most 
undesirable arrangement (and it was evident to 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


139 


Georgie that she had not) how could she convince 
her ? She determined to speak to her on the sub- 
ject without delay, and Ray would have to listen 
to her. She could see by his face that Lee was 
as much opposed to it as she was, and unless Ray 
was extremely stupid this fact must have dawned 
upon her at some time during the evening. 

She hated the idea of going in there and saying 
to her what she felt she must in order to persuade 
him that in accepting this invitation she had 
acted against ^very sense of propriety and justice 
to her, for she knew Ray would get angry. And 
yet she had no choice. It was absolutely neces- 
sary for her to go, and at once. So throwing a 
light shawl which lay at the foot of her bed around 
her shoulders, she stepped to the door and 
knocked gently. 

No answer. 

She rapped a little louder, and as there was still 
no response she turned the knob and went in. 

The gas was turned quite low, and she saw that 
Ray was lying with her cheek against the pillow 
as if sleeping soundly ; nevertheless, she called 
lier gently once or twice, and with a start Ray 
opened her eyes. 

“What’s the matter?” shesaid, raising her head 


140 


A JSOCIAZ MFA'KOR. 


a little and looking around in a bewildered fash- 
ion. 

“Nothing, dear, excepting that I have something 
to say to you before you go to sleep,’ ^ returned 
Georgie. 

“What ? Can’t you wait until to-morrow ? I’m 
so tired to-night, and I was just having such a 
lovely dream.” 


A SOCIAL METEOH. 


141 


CHAPTER X. 

A SERIOUS CONFERENCE. 

“No ; what I have to say I must say to-night, 
and you must listen to me,’’ replied Georgie, seat- 
ing herself on the edge of the bed. “Would you 
prefer to stay here, or shall we go into my room?” 

“It doesn’t make any difference. I suppose if 
your story is a long one we had better go where 
it’s warmer.” 

“The length of my story will depend upon you,” 
answered Georgie ; “it may take five minutes, and 
it may take half an hour.” 

Ray would have given a great deal to be able to 
escape from the conversation which she knew was 
about to take place. This was about as miserable 
a “state of things” as could well be imagined. A 
serious tete-a-tete with Georgie, and no one to 
help her out. It was certain to be horribly dis- 
agreeable, especially as she felt guilty, but there 
was nothing for her to do but to follow as she was 
bidden, so she tumbled rather sulkily out of bed 


142 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


aud drew on her wrapper. She snatched up a 
brush as she passed the bureau, so as to have 
some occupation for her hands if things went too 
much against her and she got nervous 

“Now, my dear,” began Georgie, kindly, when 
they had found seats, “I don’t want you to be 
offended with me, or hurt, when I tell you that I 
thought it very mean of you this evening to per- 
sist in asking Jack to dine here, and then to 
accept his invitation for to-morrow.” 

“And why, pray ?” demanded Ray, curtly. 

“Can you not understand that I have no 
desire, under the circumstances, to be in his com- 
pany ?” asked Georgie, quietly. 

“No, I cannot, for if so, why did you deliber- 
ately bring him up stairs to-night?” retorted 
Ray. 

“I had no choice ; he insisted upon coming up 
to see you. Why he did it I don’t know, unless 
it was to annoy me.” 

“But weren’t you out with him all the after- 
noon ?” inquired Ray. 

“Most certainly not,” replied Georgie, indig- 
nantly. “What a question! I met him in the 
lower hall just as I was coming in.” 

Ray shrugged her shoulders as if to say she 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


143 


doubted that statement, but Georgie wisely pre- 
tended not to see the movement. 

There was a few moments’ silence, during 
which Ray loosened her hair and slowly began 
brushing it. The little onyx clock on the man- 
tel struck once for half-past eleven. 

“Well, at any rate,” resumed Georgie, “I tell 
you, now, that it is very unpleasant for me to 
meet Jack or to be with him, and so I hope you’ll 
give up the idea of our dining with him to-mor- 
row night.” 

“I’m sure I see no reason why I should,” 
declared Ray, promptly. 

“You see no reason why you should?” repeated 
Georgie. “I think there’s every reason why you 
should. You certainly don’t want to force Lee 
and me to go where we don’t wish to, do you ?” 

“Isn’t that putting it rather strong ?” returned 
Ray, snappishly. “If you and Lee were opposed 
to going, you should have said so earlier in the 
day, and not have waited until all the plans were 
made. You both accepted Mr. Nelson’s invita- 
tion when I did, and I think it would be con- 
temptible to disappoint him now.” 

Georgie elevated her brows with a gesture of 
indifference. 


144 


A ^SOCIAL METEOR. 


“That part wouldn’t trouble me in the least, 
she said. “He has disappointed me often enough 
in times past. I shouldn’t have the slightest 
qualm of conscience on that score, I assure 
you.” 

“Well,” persisted Ray, tossing her head, “it’s 
too late to go back now. You should have spoken 
before, as I say.” 

“Do you mean to tell me that you won’t give 
this dinner up?” 

Mrs. Thorne nodded. 

“To be sure. It would be unheard of,” she 
uttered. 

“Ray, I can scarcely believe this of you,” said 
Georgie. 

“Upon my word, I actually believe you’re 
afraid to be thrown with him again,” retorted 
Ray, laughing unpleasantly. 

Georgie looked at her with eyes blazing with 
indignation. 

“You know better,” she replied, in a low, con- 
centrated tone. “You understand my feelings 
in this matter as well as I do myself, only you’re 
not willing to acknowledge it.” 

“Yes, I am, perfectly,” said Ray, provokingly, 
“only, my dear girl, I can’t see why it should 


A SOCIAL ME'IKOH. 


145 


make any difference to you whether Jack Nelson 
eats at the same table with yon or not, so long as 
he doesn’t bore yon with his attentions. You’re 
not supposed to have the least interest in him 
any longer; you’re engaged to another man. 
You’re affair with him is over, and ought to be 
forgiven and forgotten.” 

“It is forgiven, but not forgotten. It can never 
be,” replied Georgie, sadly. 

Ray moved nearer the fire, and taking one of 
Georgie’s hands which lay listlessly in her lap, 
said in a gentler tone : 

“Answer me, Georgie, do you still care for that 
man ?” 

Georgie drew her hand away, and without hes- 
itation, replied coldly : 

“I’ve told yon repeatedly that I do not.” 

“Then why should yoii object to accepting his 
invitation ?” 

“For several reasons. First, I don’t think it 
would be fair to Lee. Secondly, the wretched 
past is dead and gone, and I can’t see what sense 
there is in digging it up again. Another thing, 
there is no knowing what miserable complications 
might arise if this dinner took place ; and lastly. 


146 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


it is not tlie proper thing for us to do. If any 
one saw us it would be certain to create talk.” 

“I don’t think so, dear,” replied Ray. “You 
are sure of yourself, aren’t 3^ou ? I’ll promise 
to take entire possession of Jack, truly, so 
that he sha’n’t bother you at all, and no one 
will see us. Do let us go, Georgie, for my 
sake ; remember what a life I lead at home, and 
let me enjoy myself for one evening, at least, 
before I go back to it. I like and admire this 
young fellow exceedingly, and if I have a chance 
to spend a pleasant evening in his company, I 
think you ought to be willing to help me, instead 
of discouraging everything I propose. Come, I’d 
do as much for you.” 

Georgie turned her head away and sighed, a 
long weary sigh. She could think of no argu- 
ment to bring to bear upon this perverse woman. 
She was tempted to tell her once for all, that if 
she was determined to go, she would have to dis- 
pense with her presence, at least. Suddenly she 
rose and cried : 

“Are you heartless, Ray, that you cannot feel 
for me in this ? Do you call yourself a friend of 
mine, and yet persist in dragging me where I 
do not wish to go ? Put yourself in my place. 


A SOCIAL METEon. 


147 


Suppose I asked you to meet and talk with a 
man who had treated you as Jack did me, under 
the same circumstances, would you be apt to 
do it ?” 

Ray looked at her sullenly. 

“I cannot see why I shouldn’t,’^ she replied, 
doggedly. 

“You think you would? Well, then,” Georgie 
went on, vehemently, “ I say you wouldnk. If 
you were once placed in my position, you would 
comprehend and appreciate my feelings, that is, if 
youVe a heart. Sometimes I doubt if you have, 
you seem so cruel, so selfish. You have accepted 
this invitation and intend to go, that’s evident ; 
not because you care a fig about Jack, or dislike 
to disappoint him, but simply because you are 
bound to have your own way.” 

Ray’s eyes glittered coldly. 

“Put it whatever way you like,” she retorted 
sneeringly; “yes, I am determined to go, and, 
unless I am very much mistaken, you will go 
too.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Georgie. 

“Simply this : If you back out now both Jack 
and Lee will attribute it to a return of the old 
affection, see ? They will think, and quite natur- 


148 


A i>OCIAl METEOR. 


ally, too, that you are jealous of the attention 
Jack showed me to-night.” 

Poor Georgie sank slowly back in her chair ; 
she had not thought of this before, and she could 
not help being struck with the force of the 
suggestion. 

“That’s true,” she whispered, helplessly, after 
a short silence, “so they may.” 

“Of course it’s true,” echoed Ray, triumphantly, 
“and you wouldn’t relish that, would you ?” 

There was a silence of a full half-minute after 
this, during which Ray watched her companion’s 
face covertly. 

Finally Georgie spoke again. 

“Very well,” she said, resignedly, “I’ll go. But 
if any trouble comes of it, remember what I’ve 
said to you, will you ?” ' 

“Certainly, my love,” replied Ray, very much 
relieved; “but no trouble will come of it, you may 
be sure. We’ll just go and have a real jolly 
time, and forget all about it in a week. Kiss me 
good-night now, for it’s getting late, and I must 
run back to my nest.” 

And, well pleased with her victory, she em- 
braced Georgie affectionately, and sought her bed 
for the second time that night. 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


149 


CHAPTER XI. 
georgie’s ring. 

When the two girls met at breakfast the next 
morning it was snowing fast. The ground was 
already covered to the depth of several inches, 
and there was every reason to suppose there 
would be much more before night. 

The street-cleaners were busy shoveling and 
brushing, but they performed thankless tasks, 
for almost as soon as their brooms were lifted 
from the sidewalk a fresh coating softly spread 
itself over the flags, completely hiding all traces 
of their work. Ray looked out of the window 
upon this white world in disgust, while James 
was bringing in the coffee. 

“Isn’t this glorious?” said Georgie, drawing 
aside the curtain. “Only it makes it so hard for 
the horses at first. Look at those grays down 
there, now, how they are struggling with their 
heavy load. But it will probably be better by 


noon. 


150 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


“It’s too provoking,” answered Ray, irritably. 
“Of course our dinner’s knocked in the bead, for 
who wants to go so far in a storm like this ? It’s 
just my luck.” 

“Ob, no, it will stop before long, I bope, and 
anyway, you know, we can go in a sleigb wbetber 
it does or not, and you’ll enjoy tbe ride ever so 
mucb more tban you would a drive.” 

Ray brightened a little at this, but all tbe 
morning sbe worried and fidgeted, running to 
tbe window every few minutes to study tbe con- 
dition of tbe clouds. 

Sbe was unable to go out, on account of ber 
cold, and would not consent to being left alone 
while Georgie attended to ber errands for ber. 
So sbe was obliged to write ber wants on a slip 
of paper and trust to tbe discretion of a mes- 
senger boy. Fortunately sbe happened to get 
one who was trustworthy, and be brought every- 
thing back without a mistake. 

At noon tbe skies began to brighten, and by 
half-past one tbe clouds broke away and tbe sun 
came out in all his glory. Consequently, lun- 
cheon was a more cheerful meal tban breakfast 
bad been. 

About three o’clock a box containing two 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


151 


beautiful corsage bouquets, and a note addressed 
to Mrs. Thorne, were brought in. Both were 
from Jack, who wrote to advise them to bundle 
themselves up well, as he would bring a sleigh 
instead of a carriage, and the night promised to 
be very cold. 

Georgie’s heart gave a painful leap as she 
looked upon the familiar handwriting once more, 
this time not addressed to her. But she smiled 
at Ray’s little cries of joy when she took out the 
flowers, though she refused to accept either 
bunch. 

“But he intends one for you, my dear,” in- 
sisted Ray, put out by what she chose to call 
Georgie’s nonsense. 

“It doesn’t make any difference, I don’t care 
to take it,” she answered, firmly. 

“As you like, of course ; but what will you do 
with it ? I can’t wear both, you know.” 

“Put it in water and leave it on the table,” 
suggested Georgie, coldly. 

“All right. But it will look queer, I think, to 
see me with flowers on and you with none. 
Really, I wish you would wear it.” 

“Lee may send me some.” 

“And if he doesn’t ?” 


152 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


“Then I shall go without.” 

“Well, suit yourself, Georgie, only I think 
you’re treating poor Jack very shabbily.” 

A little after six Lee was ushered in, and Jack 
followed almost immediately. 

Georgie, as was generally the case, was ready 
some time before Ray, and as she entered the 
room the two men were struck by her exquisite 
beauty. She wore a tight-fitting street suit of 
black velvet, edged at the throat and wrists with 
bands of sable. The jacket, which was buttoned 
from the left shoulder to the right hip, showed 
every line of her superb figure to advantage. A 
little Russian cap sat jauntily upon her head. 
A muff, and a pair of gloves to match, completed 
her costume. 

The only color about her glowed in her cheeks 
and in the big, heavily lashed eyes. 

When Ray appeared she greeted Jack effu- 
sively, and he, while he congratulated her upon 
the success of her toilet, could not help com- 
paring her, mentally, to a pretty little song and 
dance artiste^ with her tinted eyes and the mass 
of fluffy yellow hair drawn low over her forehead. 
She wore a long, dark red cloak over a heavily 
beaded black silk dress, and a big flaring hat 


A SOCIAL MEIEOR. 


153 


covered with feathers. Her skirts were just short 
enough to show the heels of her French shoes. 
Jack noticed that she had his flowers pinned con- 
spicuously just above her left breast, while 
Georgie wore a big bunch of white violets, a few 
of which Lee also had in his button-hole. He 
looked from one to the other and drew his own 
conclusions. Th^n, on the way down stairs, he 
asked Ray, pointing to the two in front of him, 
if there was “anything between them.” But she, 
remembering that she was bound to secrecy, 
merely put her finger to her lips with a myste- 
rious little smile, and replied : 

“I know nothing, absolutely nothing. But 
she refused flatly to wear the flowers you sent.” 

“Indeed ? Well, at any rate you were not so 
unkind,” he murmured. 

“No, I adore flowers, and thought it very clever 
of you to send these.” 

They found the sleigh with its waving plumes 
and tinyling bells, drawn by two beautiful white 
horses, awaiting them at the entrance. It took 
about two minutes to tuck the girls carefully in, 
take up the reins, and start off. 

It was a perfect night, clear and cold; the 
moon was about three-quarters full, and as she 


154 A SOCIAL MFTLOB. 

sailed along in the heavens, she would occasion- 
ally vail her fair face in the clouds which floated 
toward her. Then, as if repenting of her unkind- 
ness, she would suddenly burst forth again, 
smiling and bright, to gladden old earth afresh, 
with her loveliness. 

They passed Delnionico’s and the Brunswick, 
with their crowds of hungry mortals waiting 
more or less patiently to be fed ; the Windsor, 
with its brilliantly lighted windows ; the Cathe- 
dral, with its throng of worshipers, who were 
just coming out after service, and then turned 
into the park, where Jack gave the horses their 
heads. Finally, after a lively spin, they drew up 
at Mount St. Vincent with an extra flourish of 
the whip and a shout from the man at the door. 

“Now, what shall we have in the way of an 
appetizer?’’ asked Jack, ga3dy, when they were 
seated at the table reserved for their use. 

“A little Bourbon for me,” replied Lee. 

“And for me,” chimed in Ray. “It’s the best 
thing to take after such a cold ride.” 

“What are you going to take?” he asked once 
more, turning to Georgie. 

“Some sherry, please.” 

“If you take my advice you’ll try something 


A iiOUlAL METEOR. 


155 


a trifle stronger, a little brandy or whisky; 
really, it will warm you iip,’^ he urged, “and you 
must be chilled through.” 

“No, the sherry will be enough. ^ Wait, 
though, tell him to put a little bitters in it.” 

“That’s better,” laughed Jack, “and you may 
bring me some absinthe.” 

“Absinthe ?” repeated Ray. “Do you know I 
think I’ll change my mind and take some, too,” 

“Don’t, it’s abominable stuff to begin to drink,” 
remarked Lee, with a shudder. “It ruins your 
nerves in a very short time. Stick to the 
whisky, Ray, and leave absinthe alone.” 

“I know all about it ; I saw loads of it drunk 
in Paris, and have always been crazy to taste it,” 
she answered, shortly. “This once won’t hurt me.” 

So the two glasses of absinthe were brought 
and drank. 

Everybody, apparently, was in excellent spirits, 
and the dinner passed off swimmingly. 

Georgie was unusually bright and animated, 
while Ray was fairly overflowing with jovial 
spirits. Some good stories were told and enjoyed; 
some mutual friends discussed, and a large 
quantity of eatables and drinkables was dis- 
posed of. 


156 


A 60 CIAL METEOR. 


Once, Jack, forgetting himself, addressed Miss 
Wheatley by her first name, and then seeing his 
mistake, colored and stopped short. But she 
yonl smiled and assured him that no harm was 
done. Nevertheless he was more careful after 
that. 

While dressing that afternoon, Georgie had 
come across the ring which she had bought for 
Ray, and until then, forgotten all about. She 
had picked it up, intending to carry it to her at 
once, when suddenly, at the recollection of the 
conversation of the night before, she had stopped 
short. 

“No,’^ she had said, quietly, slipping it on her 
own finger, “I won’t give it to her; if she had 
shown the least particle of generosity or consid- 
eration toward me, I would be only too happy to 
make her a present. But I won’t do it, feeling 
as I do toward her.” 

At dessert Jack’s eye fell upon the ring, and 
while admiring it, managed to say in a low tone, 
so that the others, who were discussing a recent 
wedding, might not hear : 

“Have you forgotten the time when my ring 
encircled that little finger ?” 

“I’m sure I hope so,” she responded, cheerfully. 


A SOCIAL METEOH. 


157 


‘ Haven’t you? There is no reason why either 
of ns should remember so much unpleasant- 
ness.” 

“No reason ?” he echoed, looking at her with 
speaking eyes. “Perhaps not. But we cannot 
all stifle our thoughts. And as for the ‘unpleas- 
antness,’ I give you my word I’ve never known 
such happiness since, and never expect to 
again.” 

“Don’t say that. There are years of happi- 
ness in store for you yet, I hope.” 

“Not like that.” 

“More lasting, at any rate, I trust,” she re- 
sponded, a little sarcastically. Then, seeing that 
the others were listening, she continued, indiffer- 
ently, “but I’m delighted to hear you say so, for 
I know you are a good judge of diamonds.” 

“Oh, that lovely ring,” exclaimed Ray, notic- 
ing it now, for the first time, “the very one I’ve 
been longing for. When did you get it ?” 

“I bought it yesterday.” 

“The luck of some people is simply sickening, 
I declare,” Ray went on ; “I would have given 
my head for that ring, and here this girl, who 
probably doesn’t care whether she loses it or not, 
gets it without any trouble.” 


158 


A SOCIAL MLTEOn. 


beautiful,” observed Lee, examining it. 

“Of course it is,” uttered Ray, “and cost a 
beautiful sum, too. Did you ever see such a 
magnificent sapphire ? Here, take it away, or I 
shall certainly die of envy.” 

“Cognac, madam ?” murmured a voice at Mrs. 
Thorne’s elbow. 

She nodded. 

Lee, half-jokingly, snatched her glass, declar- 
ing that he would not permit her to take 
anything more, as he knew she had had enough 
to drink. 

“Pray, mind your own affairs, my dear fellow, 
will you?” she returned, pertly. “Evidently you 
don’t know my capacity. Here goes mine, and 
to prove to you that I’m not so shallow as I may 
look, here goes yours as well.” And she suited 
the action to the word, making h little mouth at 
his expression of disapproval. 

They lingered in the dining-room half an hour 
longer, during which Ray, who was by far the 
merriest of the four, devoted almost her whole 
attention to Jack; while he, having drunk just 
enough to make everything appear coleur de rose^ 
smiled indulgentl}^ upon her, and accepted her 
devotion very good-humoredly. 


A SOCIAL 


m 


As they were putting on their wraps, Mr. Nel- 
son was told that his coachman wished to speak 
to him. 

“Well, Brewster, what is it?” he asked of the 
man. 

“If you please, sir, the mare struck herself 
coming up, and her foot is that sore I’m afraid it 
would hurt her to drive her back.” 

“Is that so?” said Jack. “What are we to do, 
then, at this hour? We can’t walk, you know.” 

“The stable man says you can have a couple 
of broughams he has, sir, which is all he can 
give you to-night.” 

“Very well, then, tell him to get them ready 
directly, as we have no choice. But it’s too bad, 
as our drive up was delightful.” 

How to pair off was the next question, but that 
was decided by Lee, who thought it wiser to have 
a man in each carriage in case of accident. 

“One never knows the condition of these 
drivers,” said he, “especially on a cold night.” 

So when the carriages came around, Mr. Grant 
got in with Georgie, leaving Ray and Jack to go 
together. 

Lee, occupied with his own thoughts, which, 
by the way, were none too pleasant, was silent 


160 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


for a while, and it was not until they were nearly 
out of the park that he spoke. Then, rousing 
himself to ask some trivial question, he was 
startled at the expression of Georgie’s face. She 
was pale as death, and there were lines of pain 
about her mouth as deep as if she had been suf- 
fering agony for days. 

“Why, my darling,” he began, but she turned 
her head away from him. He tried to take her 
hand, but with no better success; she drew it 
away, and moved as far from him as possible. 
Then he put his arm around her and drew her 
to him, gently. She struggled for an instant, 
but seeing that he was the stronger, she yielded, 
and hiding her face on his shoulder, suddenly 
burst into wild sobs. He tried to soothe her as 
one would a little child, wiping away the tears, 
and stroking her forehead and hair. He could 
feel her trembling and shuddering from head to 
foot, while deep sighs shook her whole frame. 

“Don’t, don’t go on so, Georgie,” he begged, 
“or you’ll make yourself ill. Calm yourself a 
little. It pains me to see you so distressed.” 

At last, worn out with weeping, she threw her- 
self back and cried, as if in sheer agony of spirit : 

“Oh, Lee, I’m so unhappy, I’m so unhappy !” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


161 


I have heard it said that there comes a time in 
the life of each one of us when we are called upon 
to make some g^eat sacrifice or to bear some 
heavy burden, and that the spirit in which we 
respond colors all our future, and gives the fin- 
ishing touch to our characters. It decides 
whether we are to be strong or weak ; generous 
or selfish.; good or bad. In fact, it is the turn- 
ing point in our lives. 

I do not know how true this statement may be, 
or how erroneous, but I do know that Lee Grant 
felt this to be the bitterest moment he had ever 
experienced. 

A man of few words ; fewer friendships ; strong 
in his likes and dislikes, he had gone through 
life until the past few months heart-whole, and 
almost fancy-free. But when Georgie had crossed 
his path all had been changed, and the love 
which he lavished upon her almost frightened 
him at times, so absolutely did it fill his whole 
being. He trembled as he thought, what if she 
should die and leave him ? How much harder it 
would be for him than for a younger man, with 
whom fancy is so often mistaken for affection. 
Or, if some one should win her from him ? And 
now he believed his worst fear was about to be 


162 


A JSOCIAZ METEOR. 


realized. He felt crushed and pained beyond ex- 
pression, yet even at this time his own grief was 
swallowed up in pity for her. 

“I know you are, my dearest,’’ he answered, 
knew it all the evening. I could see it in your 
face even while you were laughing and talking. 
It was an awful strain on your nerves, wasn’t it ? 
You must have suffered tortures. I watched you 
all the time, expecting to see you break down, 
but you were so brave through it all.” 

“Oh, Lee,” she repeated, piteously, “forgive 
me, but you don’t understand — I am so wretched, 
so miserable. I thought it was all over, and that 
he couldn’t hurt me any more, and now,” choking 
down a sob, “I feel as if my heart is broken. 
Yes, it is, Lee. What have I done that I should 
be made to suffer so ? And all through her, too, 
the woman I trusted and loved. It’s too cruel!” 

“My dear girl, I do understand, and I sympa- 
thize with you from my heart. But when you 
have lived as many years as I have, you’ll find 
that it is our best friends who can hurt us the 
most, and who often seem to take the greatest 
delight in doing it.” 

“But how could she, under my very eyes, when 
I asked her ; I told her ” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


163 


“Slie’s not accountable for wbat sbe does to- 
night,’^ he interrupted, unhesitatingly. 

“And Jack, how could he subject me to such 
humiliation ? To talk to and look at her as he 
did ; oh, it was too shameful ! If he had wanted 
to be with her, why couldn’t he be decent about 
it and wait until he could see her alone, some 
time ?” 

“I don’t blame him so much. You know men 
always take their cue from the women they are 
talking with,” replied Lee. “Her weak point is 
love of admiration. He soon discovered that, and 
spent the evening in flattering her. But she 
went entirely too far. So,” with a slight tremor 
in his voice, “you see, after all, you love him 
still.” 

She was silent for a few moments, then she 
replied, hopelessly : 

“I don’t know. I only feel as if I had sud- 
denly either gone mad or come to my senses. I 
thought, honestly, I had forgotten him and could 
meet him again without feeling of any kind, but 
you see how it is. Do I love him, do I hate him ; 
I don’t know I’m sure. I only know that no 
man ever had the power to wound me as he has.” 

“Yes,” said Lee, a little bitterly, “you care for 


164 


A t:OCIAL METEOR. 


him as you will never be able to care for any one 
else, and if he came to you to-morrow and said 
^come,’ you would go. You see I judged you 
rightly when I said you were capable of but one 
affection, and that that would be a lasting one. 
I only regret, selfishly perhaps, that I was not 
the man to inspire that passion.” 

“Oh, Lee, forgive me. As I live, I hoped and 
believed it was all, all over, when I met you. I 
thought this second love of mine would be better, 
more complete, than the first. Do believe me. 
You must suffer as much as I do. Oh, that mis- 
erable dinner, if it had never been proposed, we 
might have been happy still.” 

“Hush, my child. IVe nothing to forgive, 
and I do believe you. You’ve done nothing 
wrong,” he answered, kissing the hand he held. 
“I shall always love you, yes, to my dying day. 
But you know the ‘second love’, as you call it, ot 
a woman like you, is not worth that,^' 

“You’re so good and generous,” she murmured, 
“far too good for me.” 

“We’ll talk about that another time,” he said 
softly. “But now, my dear, compose yourself, 
for we are almost home, and they mustn’t see 
tears in your eyes.” 


A SOCIAL METjlOR. 


165 


“But, Lee, promise me, promise me,’’ slie 
pleaded, “that you won’t leave me ; I shouldn’t 
know what to do without you, really. You 
believe I love you, don’t you ? See, I’m quite 
myself again, only it upset me so just at first. 
But I feel better now, and I hope you won’t go 
away from me.” 

He was really alarmed by her nervous hysteri- 
cal manner, and so he quieted her as well as he 
could until the carriage stopped in front of the 
hotel. 


166 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


CHAPTER XII. 
georgie’s farewell note. 

They found Ray and Jack already up stairs. 

She had thrown herself into the nearest chair, 
and he stood leaning against the mantel. She 
was idly pulling her flowers to pieces as they 
came in. 

“Only think, my dear,’^ she began in a loud 
voice, “we actually got back safe and sound, much 
to my surprise, for I fully expected to be dashed 
into ^kingdom come,’ twenty times before we 
reached here. The way that man drove was a 
caution. Rattlety-bang on this side, rattlety- 
bang on that, at the rate of fifty knots an hour. 
I never went so fast in my life. It was ridiculous 
to attempt to drive through the snow, perfectly 
absurd. Sleighs are ever so much nicer and far 
less dangerous. Have you any objection to my 
indulging in a cigarette, cherie? You know I 
haven’t had one to-day, and Mr. Nelson says he 
tlnnks it very cute for a woman to smoke, if she 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


167 


does it gracefully, and I learned in Russia. Let 
me see, was it Russia or Prussia ? Really IVe 
forgotten. But what are you all staring at me 
so for? Especially you, Mr. Jack? You ” 

“Ray,” interrupted Georgie. 

But she waved her back majestically. 

“Hold your tongue, will you. Miss Imperti- 
nence ? You’ve interfered with me quite enough, 
lately,” she went on savagely. “As for you, Mr. 
Jack, you would oblige me by turning those orbs 
of yours in another direction; you positively 
frighten me when you stare so ; by the way, did 
either of you ever notice what big eyes he has ? 
Just like an owl’s, and when he fixes them on 
you, ugh ; they fairly make you dizzy. At any 
rate, they affect me so. There, he’s doing it 
again ; make him stop, please, for my head is 
going around. No, it’s the room, after all, or the 
chandelier, I don’t know which, but stop it, won’t 
you ? I can’t see.” 

And she covered her face with her hands. 

Lee caught Georgie’s eye and led her to the 
other side of the room. 

“Can you get her off to bed ?” he whispered. 

“I suppose so,” she replied, “if you and Jack 


168 


A SOCIAL METFOll, 


will go at once. But what under the sun is the 
matter with her?” 

“Of course. You see it’s as I said, the ab- 
sinthe was a little more than she could stand.” 

“It’s dreadful,” she remarked quietly. “I 
wonder what Jack thinks ?” 

“He looks as if he thought it were funny, and 
so I suppose it is, or would be if it was somebody 
else. If she had only waited now, until we were 
alone, before she tried the experiments of mixing 
drinks, as she did to-night. But of course she 
would have her own way, and may have to pay 
dearly for it.” 

“How ?” asked Georgie, anxiously. 

“She’ll feel like the mischief to-morrow, and 
then have the ‘blues’ for a week. But we can’t 
stand talking here ; she’s looking at us now. Do 
you really think you can get along all right ? 
Hadn’t I better send for Annette ?” 

“Not for the world. I would rather spare her 
the humiliation of having her maid see her under 
such circumstances. I can manage her quite well 
alone. Don’t worry.” 

“You know I return to Philadelphia to-mor- 
row,” he continued. 

“And I to R ” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


169 


“I may come to see you soon ?’’ 

She dropped her eyes. 

“Do you wish to ?” she asked, after a moment’s 
hesitation. 

“What a question !” 

“Very well. Come whenever you like, only be 
sure and let me know beforehand. Write to me, 
anyway, won’t you ? I shall be so uneasy until 
I hear from you.” 

“I will ; but why should you be worried ? You 
may depend upon it, my feelings toward you will 
never change,” he answered, reassuringly. 

“Ah,” she responded, shaking her head sadly, 
“you can’t tell. Things look very different in 
broad daylight from what they do at night, and I 
don’t see how you can care for me after this.” 

When she returned to Ray, after bidding the 
two men good-night, she found her with her head 
thrown back, half asleep. 

“Are you ready to go to your room now ?” she 
asked, shaking her a little to rouse her. 

“What do you want? Go away and let me 
alone,” answered Ray, crossly. 

“But you can’t stay here all night, you know.” 

“Why can’t I ? Go to bed yourself, if you like, 
but I’m going to stay here.” 


170 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


And she settled herself for another nap. 

“My dear, you reall}^ must come,” persisted 
Georgie, “or I shall have to call Annette. You 
never could undress yourself to-night.” 

Ray sprang up with as much indignation as 
she could muster at that moment. 

“What do you mean ? I suppose you wish to 
imply that I can’t see straight. Well, may be I 
can’t ; but, all the same, I don’t choose to be in- 
sulted. I can get along as well as you,” starting 
toward her room with uncertain steps. “Take 
your arm away.” Then, overcome by a sudden 
dizziness, she put her hand to her head again, and 
would have fallen if it had not been for Georgie. 

“After all,” she admitted, a little more amiably, 
“I don’t think I am able to do much for myself; 
so 3^ou’ll help me, won’t you ? I can’t imagine 
what ails me.” And she allowed herself to be un- 
dressed, quite meekly, watching Georgie’s move- 
ments with a dull, stupid air, and as soon as the 
gas was out she fell into a deep, heavy sleep. 

Georgie’s esteem for Ray had received its death 
blow, and she was now thoroughly disgusted with 
her. How any woman, who pretended to be a lady, 
could so far forget herself as she had was beyond 
her comprehension, and as she made her own 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


171 


preparations for the night, she could not repress 
a feeling of shame that she had been in her society 
when she had made such a spectacle of herself. 

She sent for Annette and told her that her 
mistress was ill, and on no account to wake her 
in the morning, even to give herdier breakfast. 

“When she wants you she will ring,’^ she said. 
“And, by the way, in case I do not see her before 
I go away — I expect to go home to-morrow — tell 
her I left a note on her bureau ; you will find it 
there.” 

Then she packed her clothes, declining the 
maid’s proffered assistance, and spent the night 
(what remained of it) lying across the bed, trying 
to compose herself and sleep a little. But her 
pulses were throbbing, and her cheeks burning 
so, that she found it impossible even to rest. She 
tossed feverishly from side to side until the first 
bars of light came in between her curtains, when 
she dressed, and, after drinking a little coffee, 
wrote her farewell note to Ray, who was still 
wrapped in silent slumber. She did not address 
it, saying what she had to say simply, and in a 
very few words, as follows : 

Thursday Morning, 

Hoffman House. 

Everything is at an end between us. I do not 


172 


A t’OCIAZ METEOR. 


feel as if I ever wished to see or hear from you 
again. I think you will understand, and it would 
pain me to explain. Forgive me if I seem cruel, 
but I cannot forget. Georgie. 

This she laid on her dressing-table, and then, 
without so much as looking toward the bed, from 
which she could hear Ray’s low, quiet breathing, 
she left the room and the hotel. 

When my lady awoke, it was with a dull, tired 
feeling, and a strange buzzing in her ears. 

She felt for her watch under the pillow, but it 
was not there. Then she spied it on her dressing- 
table, and, upon looking at it, found the hands 
pointed to twelve o’clock. 

“I must have forgotten to wind it last night,” 
she thought. But no, when she held it up to her 
ear it was ticking as placidly as usual. 

“Then Annette must have gone out and for- 
gotten to awake me,” she decided, and forthwith 
proceeded to ring the bell. 

Almost instantly the maid appeared, bearing a 
delicate breakfast on a tray. 

“What do you mean, you stupid, by letting me 
sleep until this hour?” she cried, angrily. “You 
know I had to go to the dressmaker’s at eleven 
o’clock,” 


A SOCIAL METJlOR. 


173 


“Pardon, madam,” replied the poor woman, 
looking confusedly at her mistress, “but Miss 
Wheatley told me not to wake you this morning, 
as you were ill last evening.” 

“Miss Wheat ” she began, and then stopped, 

struck suddenly with the remembrance of the 
night before. 

A dim recollection of how she had behaved at 
table came to her, and a sharp, darting pain 
across her eyes helped to bring the rest of the 
evening’s events clearly to her mind. 

“Miss Wheatley was quite right, after all,” 
she rejoined, more mildly. “I had forgotten, I 
fainted at dinner, and she put me to bed. It’s 
too provoking, though, as I ought to have gone 
to be fitted. How the old woman will rage ! 
You’ll have to go up there right away and ex- 
plain to her, or else send a messenger. Is Miss 
Wheatley out?” 

“Miss Wheatley went away this morning, 
madam.” 

“Where, do you know?” 

“Home, she say.” 

Mrs. Thorne stared blankly at her. 

“Home,” she echoed. “What do you mean ?” 

“Yes, madam. Miss Wheatley pack her things 


174 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


last night and say she go home this morning.” 

Ray was thankful that the room was not light 
enough for the maid to see the flush which dyed 
her face and neck at this statement. She com- 
posed herself as quickly as possible, however, and 
said, indifferently : 

‘‘I’m sorry she had to go before I was up. I 
knew she was going some time to-day, still I had 
hoped to see her to say good-by. But come, 
now, help me to dress, and give me my breakfast, 
for I’m as hungry as a bear.” 

She spoke quietly, even cheerfully, but in- 
wardly she was boiling. She toyed with her 
food, but could not swallow a mouthful. There 
was a lump in her throat, and a mist before her 
eyes. 

Presently she asked, in a casual sort of way : 

“Did Miss Wheatley leave no word for me, 
Annette ?” 

“She leave a note, madam, on your table.” 

“Ah I Bring it to me, and then go and get me 
a pencil. I want to send a telegram.” 

In reality she wanted to be alone, and when the 
door had closed on the heels of the faithful An- 
nette, she turned the key, and with trembling fin- 
gers tore open the note. 


A SOCIAL MBTWH. 


175 


She read it through breathlessly, and then laid 
it down, pale with rage and shame. 

“How could she ? I hate her, I hate her, the 
heartless little prude !” she muttered, with closed 
teeth. 

Hearing the maid’s returning footsteps, she 
tossed it hastily into a drawer and unlocked the 
door. 

There was nothing left for her to do but to go 
home, as it would look most foolish for her to 
linger here any longer alone. Accordingly she 
ordered Annette to make all preparations, and in 
another hour they were seated in a cab on their 
way to Desbrosses street. 

A fine, drizzling rain was falling when they 
reached Philadelphia, soaking everything and 
causing the melting snow to run in dirty streams 
down the street or form itself into muddy, lead- 
colored puddles in the middle of the sidewalk. 
Roofs dripped dismally, and wet, umbrella-bearing 
pedestrians jostled each other on every side. 

“Carriage, lady, carriage ?” 

“For goodness sake, let’s get out of this,” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Thorne, making her way between 
tl^ rows of scraping cabmen. “It’s like running 
the gantlet.” 


176 


A SOCIAL MErUOli, 


She selected a hansom as being the highest and 
driest vehicle in sight, and threw herself wearily 
into it. 

“Is your master at home ?” she asked of the 
butler, when the front door was opened. 

“Yes, ma’am.’’ 

“Did he get my telegram ?” 

“I believe he did, ma’am. Leastways one came 
for him a little while ago, and he says to me ‘Tell 
Mrs. Thorne I’m in the library and v^ould like to 
see her as soon as she gets home.’ ” 

But Mrs. Thorne made no haste to obey the 
summons of her lord and master ; she proceeded 
leisurely up to her room, where she changed her 
bedraggled garments and afterward refreshed 
herself with a cup of strong tea. Then, having 
nothing else to do, she went slowly down stairs to 
the library, where she found her husband engaged 
in looking over some papers. 

This room, which was very large, was preferred 
by many people, especially Mr. Thorne’s particu- 
lar friends, to any in the house. The furniture 
was of mahogany, elaborately carved, and the 
floor of hard wood, covered here and there with 
the skins of bears, which had, at different times, 
been brought low by his gun. A pair of superb 


. A SOCIAL METEOR 177 

antlers just over one of the doors bore testimony 
to his success in the Adirondack regions. Hun- 
dreds of volumes -filled the book-cases which hid 
the walls, and solemn-faced marble busts stared 
from every nook and corner. 

“So youhe back again, are you?” was his 
greeting, as he deposited an apology for a kiss 
upon her cheek. 

“Yes, I’m back,” she answered in the same en- 
thusiastic tone. “Did you want to see me about 
anything particular ? Because I’m as tired as a 
dog, and would like to lie down a little while be- 
fore dinner, if possible.” 

“Well, yes, there was one little thing I wanted 
to tell you about that’s happened since you went 
away,” he answered slowly, glancing contempla- 
tively down at his well polisheS boot. 

She questioned him with her eyes. 

Mr. Thome rose to his feet. He was a short, 
stout man of about fifty, with a rubicund face, 
and small, sleepy eyes. He had the reputation 
of being an epicure, and of this he was very 
proud. He was also considered a great joker, 
and a good after dinner speaker, which inflated 
his portly bosom still more. To his wife, how- 
ever, he was nothing but a gourmand, and 


178 


A SOOIAl METEOR. 


although she smiled appreciatively whenever a 
bon mot of his was applauded, iu her heart she 
thought him an insuiferable bore. 

“I hardly think you’ll be pleased to hear what 
I have to tell you,” he resumed ; “in fact I’m ^ 
sure you won’t, but still it remains my painful ^ 
duty ” 

Mrs. Thorne tapped the table impatiently, 
though she turned a little pale at the same time, 
for her husband did not often waste words with 
her. 

“Come to the point, please,” she said coldly; 
“I can’t stay here all night.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


179 


CHAPTER XIII. 

‘‘then we are poor.^’ 

‘^Certainly, my dear, certainly,’^ lie replied 
briskly. “Don’t lose your patience, there’s plenty 
of time, and, as I say, my news is none too 
pleasant,” and he looked slyly at her from under 
his short stubby lashes. 

“Then the sooner it’s over the better.” 

“True enough. Well, to come to the point, as 
you say, you will remember, my love, I had a lot 
of money in with Lane, Streete & Co.?” 

“Yes. Well?” 

“Well — but didn’t you see the morning papers?” 

“No,” growing still paler. 

“Then you don’t know anything about it, and 
the blow will be all the harder for you. Ahem^ 
to speak plainly. Lane, Streete & Co. went up 
yesterday.” 

“And — ” she uttered, clutching the table for 
support. 

“And of course I’m just so much out.” 

“But you didn’t have so very much in it.” 


180 


A ilOClAL METEOR. 


Mr. Thome took out his pen-knife and opened 
it. 

“That’s the worst of it, my dear, I didn’t until 
last month, when I foolishly put almost every- 
thing I had in it. You see I thought I might 
double my fortune, but unfortunately, I lose more 
instead. I can wait and try over again, I sup- 
pose. Things may run my way perhaps, some 
day.” 

She sank trembling into a chair. 

“Is everything gone ?” she gasped. 

“Pretty nearly.” 

“How can you be so cool about it ?” 

“What’s the use of crying over spilt milk? 
Besides, we both enjoyed it while it lasted, and 
there’s no sense in complaining over what you 
can’t help.” 

Her hands fell to her sides, nerveless. 

“Then we are poor ?” she whispered, with white 
lips. 

“That’s about it, my girl, poor, poor, poor; 
can you realize it?” he replied, showing his teeth 
in a disagreeable smile. “But of course you can, 
as you had never tasted the pleasures of riches 
when I married you. If it hadn’t been for me 
you would doubtless be teaching school some- 


A SOCIAL METjlOU. 181 

where to-day, wouldn’t you? I was a good 
fellow to give you a boost, eh ?” 

“Yes, about as good as a person is who leads 
another to the top of a high cliff and then pushes 
him off,” she retorted, with quiet scorn. 

“Come now, don’t be ungenerous, Ray, you 
certainly have lived on the fat of the land for 
years, and you ought not to complain because 
you have at last come to the end of the rope.” 

But she did not even hear his words. 

“Tell me, will we have to leave this house?” 

“Yes, and give up the horses and servants. 
Have you any idea what it costs to run an estab- 
lishment like this? I should judge not, indeed. 
Well, it costs about four times as much as my 
income will be in the future.” 

“How long have you known about this ?” 

“You mean the failure?” 

“Yes.” 

“I knew it was liable to occur at any time, 
about a week ago, but like the rest of the fools 
connected with the business, I didn’t believe 
things were in so bad a shape as they were. So 
when the blow came, although of course, it 
shocked me, I was not altogether unprepared 
for it.” 


182 


A SOCIAL METEOR 


^‘And you never spoke of it to me,’’ she man- 
aged to articulate. 

He looked up from the nail he was paring. 

“What was the use, my dear? You know I 
have talked to you time and time and again 
about your extravagance, but to what purpose ? 

I might as well have remonstrated with a graven 
image.” 

“But if you had mentioned ruin,” she mur- 
mured, with a bewildered air. 

He closed his knife with a snap. 

“You would have laughed at me and said I 
was trying to frighten you. No, my only treas- 
ure, don’t rake up the past and find fault with it ; 
let us turn our attention rather to what the 
future holds for us. You won’t leave your loving 
husband, now that misfortune has overtaken him, 
will you? But it would be just like you to de- 
sert the sinking ship. I don’t believe you’ll have 
grit enough to stick by me when you know you 
will have to get along with one gown a season, 
and consider yourself lucky to get that. The 
love of dress ” 

“In Heaven’s name, stop,” she cried, vehe- 
mently. “How can you stand there and talk so to 
me? It is such monsters as you who drive 


A SOCIAL METEOR 


183 


women to recklessness and ruin. You say I 
have been extravagant, and perhaps I have, but 
you — have you been more prudent? If IVe 
made an idol of my person, you have made one 
of your stomach, but there has been this differ- 
ence between us : I have clothed only myself, 
while you have fed half the clubs in town. If 
you had shown a disposition to save, from the 
beginning, be very sure I should have followed 
your example. But did you? Look at your 
card parties, your fast horses, your wine suppers, 
before you cry out against me. ^As the husband 
is the wife is’ has been only too well proven in 
our case, and if ever a woman had a ‘clown’ for a 
husband, that woman has been myself.” 

His sleepy eyes lighted up for the first time 
with a little show of interest. 

“ ’Pon my soul, my dear,” he exclaimed, mock- 
ingly. “I didn’t know you were such a fluent 
talker ; you’d make quite an actress, I do believe. 
Why don’t you go on the stage and turn an 
honest dollar to help your husband along, instead 
of wasting your talents by standing there and 
abusing him like a thief?” 

She made no reply to this- speech, delivered as 
it was, in an insulting tone ; she turned from him 


184 


A SOCIAL METEOli, 


haughtily, and swept from the room with the air 
of an injured queen. 

But once in her own chamber, her proud head 
drooped, and finding herself alone, she sank cow- 
ering upon the floor, moaning : “Oh, how can I 
give it all up ? I cannot, I cannot ; it would kill 
me.’’ 

Then she looked helplessly at her little white 
hands, with their delicate pink nails. 

“What’s to become of me ? What can I do ? 
Can I endure to have the people who consider it 
an honor to entertain me now, turn up their noses 
at me ? Or, worse still, can I stand being boxed 
up in a little bit of a place, with perhaps one slip- 
shod maid-of-all-work, and with a man whom I 
loathe, for a companion ? No, a thousand times 
no.” 

She arose and walked slowly through the 
length and breadth of her apartments ; then she 
went softly down stairs, and passed through the 
superb parlors and drawing-rooms, looking at 
and touching everything in a reverent, half-un- 
conscious way, with a mournful smile on her 
lips. What pride she had taken in her enter- 
tainments ; in knowing that her reputation as a 
hostess had traveled far and wide; that people 


A SOCIAL JULTEOJi. 


185 


came to go through her house as they would go 
through an art gallery ; that her china and bric- 
a-brac were worth their weight in gold! And 
now it was all over, and she must soon sink into 
utter oblivion and insignificance — forgotten after 
a short nine days. Scarcely realizing what she 
did, she returned to her dressing-room and pulled 
out all her jewels. She held them up to the 
light, fondling and kissing them as if they had 
been living creatures, able to respond to her 
caresses. Woman-like, what crushed her most 
was the thought of parting with her ornaments. 
She sat on the floor with them in her lap, bewail- 
ing her fate, and weeping, for an hour. Must 
she give them up, too? Was there no way of 
saving them? They represented thousands of 
dollars, and when she was decked in them she 
felt like an empress. She might run away and 
take them with her, but then, what would one in 
her circumstances do with diamonds ? She might 
better sell them and buy bread. And at this 
reflection she laughed a little, bitterly. 

How was she going to support herself? She 
knew she was incapable of teaching any but the 
very youngest, and she had no patience with 
children. She might manage to get some insig- 


186 


A SOCIAZ METEOR. 


nificant part on the stage, perhaps, but that would 
require time and money, and she had neither to 
waste in doubtful experiments. She was deter- 
mined upon one point, however, and that was, 
that she would go away alone, without her 
husband; she would rather work until her 
fingers were worn to the bone, than spend one 
hour more than she could possibly help with 
that brute. It was bad enough to have to endure 
him in prosperity ; in poverty it would be in- 
tolerable. 

Her cogitations were interrupted by Bijou, 
who was scratching and whining piteously at the 
door for admittance. When she let him in he 
jumped up, half frantic v/ith joy, and tried to 
lick her face and hands. 

For the first time in years, perhaps, she shed a 
few real unselfish tears at the delight expressed 
by this little' dumb animal, at seeing her again. 

“Ah,” she said, “here is one at least who loves 
me honestly and devotedly ; as it is worth while 
being loved. Bijou, my pet, you shall never 
leave me, no matter what happens. If I have to 
beg from door to door, you shall always be cared 
for.” 

Annette, who was unpacking h^r mistress’ 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


187 


trunks, knocked presently, as ske wished to put 
some clothes into the wardrobe. Mrs. Thome 
told her to come in, and much to the woman’s 
amazement, offered to assist her. She felt as if 
she would go wild if she had not some occupa- 
tion for her mind and hands. 

^‘Madam,” said the girl, as she deposited a 
box of gloves on a drawer, “I have found a note 
among the handkerchiefs which I did not know 
where to put. Shall I bring it to yon ?” 

“Yes,” said Ray, indifferently. 

Annette disappeared and returned almost im- 
mediately with the letter. It was the one Georgie 
had left on her bureau the night before. She 
took it and re-read it mechanically. 

What horrible luck she was in, to be sure. 
Everything seemed to come upon her at once. 
Here was one to whom she well knew she would 
not have to apply in vain, had she not forfeited 
the right to do so. Perhaps, after all, Georgie 
could be induced to overlook her mishap of the 
night before. ” But no, she knew that she was a 
woman whose yes meant yes, and whose no 
meant no, and that a friendship with her, once 
broken, could never be renewed. She would 
send her a check, beyond a doubt, if she asked 


188 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


for.it, but it would come alone, unaccompanied by 
a word of any kind. 

“I would starve before I would go to lier,” sbe 
muttered, with clenched fists, “the harsh, unfor- 
giving little beast I How she would gloat if she 
knew my position. I only wish she were in my 
position and I in hers.’’ 

She sat a long time staring at the written 
words without seeing them, her mind full of 
melancholy thoughts. 

“If I could only get even with her for this. But 
a toad might just as well try to attack a star. 
I’m nothing in future but a poor outcast from 
society, hopeless and friendless, while she, 
through my own nonsensical management, will 
step right into my shoes and queen it in my 
stead. Oh, it’s too bitter ! If I could only have 
anticipated events a little — and yet I might, I 
may — if I dared” — she hesitated, and looked 
down at the paper again with a half-frightened 
expression on her face, as if awed at the enor- 
mity of her own thoughts. “After all, why 
should I not ? She did me a mean turn, and it’s 
probably my last chance. What if she found it 
out, though, and came to me ? But she won’t if 
I play my cards well. It’s worth the risk at any 


A SOCIAL MBIL’OR 


189 


rate, and a person in my desperate strait must 
not be too particular as to means.’’ 

So saying she went to her desk and wrote the 
following lines : 

Dear Lee : — I left New York this noon, and 
reached home about an hour ago. 

When I said good-by to Georgie, she gave me 
the inclosed note, asking me to hand it to you. 
But as I cannot get out this afternoon, and think- 
ing perhaps it may be important (as lovers’ mes- 
sages generally are), I take this means of getting 
it to you. 

Hoping it contains something very pleasant, 
and also to see you soon, I am, as ever, R. 

Then she carefully sealed up, in a plain envel- 
ope, the note she had received from Georgie, and 
put both into a larger one, upon which she 
inscribed his name. It was the work of but a 
moment to ring for the footman and send him 
away to deliver it, and she did so without falter- 
ing. 

“It seems a cruel thing to do,” she whispered, 
“but there is no reason why she should have all 
and I nothing. If Providence arranges things 
badly, each of us poor mortals must do what we 
can to make them a little more endurable, even 
if it affects somebody else.” 


190 


A SOCIAL METEOK 


Dinner was a gloomy meal for her. Served 
though it was by liveried servants, and upon the 
finest china, her food was as bitter herbs in her 
mouth. She had eaten nothing since the day 
before, and her head was aching painfully ; still, 
she could not force a solid morsel down her throat. 
She took two spoonfuls of soup, and trifled with 
a piece of fish, but it was an exertion for her to 
swallow, so she gave up trying in disgust, and 
sat back in her chair watching her husband 
empty his plates, with an expression of contempt 
upon her face. 

“You seem to have an excellent appetite,” she 
remarked, sweetly. 

“Yes, my dear, I never allow anything to inter- 
fere with my meals,” he returned, helping him- 
self a second time to terrapin. “But you’re not 
playing a very good knife and fork to-night. 
What’s the matter ? aren’t you well ? ^Eat, drink 
and be merry,’ you know. It applies very well 
in our case, doesn’t it?” and he poured out a glass 
of champagne with a little giggle. 

“What I can’t understand,” she began, when 
the servant had left the room, “is, how you 
manage to take this so coolly. You say you are 
ruined, and yet you can sit here and joke as if 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


191 


nothing more serious than the death of one of 
your horses had occurred. In fact, you were a 
great deal more affected, apparently, when ^Max’ 
died last summer. What is it ? bravado ? If it is, 
you’re making a fool of yourself, and Heaven help 
me when your courage leaves you.” 

“You misunderstood me, miy love; I never said 
I was ruined ; I said I was poor, and so I am, 
comparatively ; but I still have enough to live on 
comfortably and respectably, yes, and a little to 
risk now and again, too, if I feel inclined. For 
the next few years, however, we must economize, 
and get along without a great many things we 
have now. You won’t be able to play the fine 
lady, as you’ve been doing for some time past, 


She interrupted him impatiently. 

“Do you suppose,” she asked, with a curling 
lip, “that I’m going to stay with you and be a 
housemaid? If you do, you’re mightily mis- 
taken.” 

“Really ? And what does Madame la Princesse 
intend to do, if I may ask ?” 

“I don’t know yet. But anything rather than 
slave for you. I don’t mean this unkindly, but 


192 A SOCIAL METEOJl 

I actually could not stand passing the rest of my 
life in poverty with you. I should die.” 

“Your truthfulness is surpassed only by your 
extreme good manners, my dear,” sneered her 
husband, in his most offensive tone. ^‘But do as 
you like, I beg ; I wouldn’t have you incommode 
yourself for anything, though perhaps that ad- 
vice is superfluous, as you generally do do that. 
I may, then, have the pleasure of seeing you 
some fine day parading around one of our shops 
in the role of a ‘tryer on,’ I suppose, or, better 
still, of beholding you in one of our theaters 
exhibiting your faultless figure to the Philadel- 
phia swells at a dollar fifty per head. Well, you 
will carry my best wishes with you, of course, 
though, I must say, I think you are making me 
a very poor return for picking you out of the 
mud.” 

“You never picked me out of the mud,” she 
cried, the hot blood rushing to her cheeks, “and 
you’re a coward to say so.” 

“Of course I’m not speaking literally, you 
ought to know that,” he answered, in tones which 
he pretended to make soothing, but which, in 
reality exasperated her more than ever, “but 
candidly now, where would you be if it wasn’t 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


193 


for me, or rather, for the money I had when you 
married me ? Living with ^mamma’ somewhere 
in the backwoods, more than likely waiting upon 
yourself; not riding around in seal-skins and 
diamonds.’’ 

“There were others — ” she retorted. 

“Then I wish to the heavens above they had 
you,” he interrupted, savagely, jumping up from 
the table. “And now, since we’re on the subject, 
I may as well be as frank as youVe been, and 
show as much consideration for you as you did 
for me. If you’ve run up any big bills in New 
York, let me tell you I won’t pay them. No, 
not one cent will I give you for any confounded 
milliners or dressmakers down there, and if any 
come in. I’ll put you out of the house, neck and 
crop the next minute, do you understand? I 
I will, so help me Jupiter.” And he shook his 
fat forefinger at her threateningly and left the 
room. 

“Then, if that’s so, we might as well say good- 
by now,” she called out, laughing scornfully, “for 
depend upon it, you’ll get some terrors.” 

But she wasted her breath for he had gone 
into the library, banging the door after him. 


194 


A iSOCIAZ METEOR. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

' A STRANGE REQUEST. 

Three days after this, Peter Persuade was 
ushered into the joint presence of Mrs. Clarke 
and her niece, whose day it was to receive. 

As he usually strolled in every Saturday, 
nobody paid particular attention to him, so he 
seated himself in one corner of the drawing- 
room, where he could see everybody, and made 
himself perfectly at home. He invariably carried 
his hat in his hand, and any one, upon examin- 
ing it, would be very apt to find a lump of chew- 
ing-gum stuck inside of the crown. He was 
always well-dressed, and looked every inch a 
gentleman, though he would tell you in the 
most cheerful manner imaginable, if you asked 
him, that he had not a dollar in the world out- 
side of his salary, and a small sum which his 
mother, who was blessed with plenty of the all 
needful, allowed him monthly. 

He took a mischievous delight in hearing 
women chat with each other, old ones, especially. 


A SOCIAL MKTEOR. 


195 


and would sit for hours listening to them, and 
leading them slyly on to gossip, until their 
tongues got wagging in a manner that would 
have surprised even themselves, had they realized 
the mischief they were making. 

Georgia used to scold him for this, but he 
would immediately assume an expression of 
injured innocence, and vow that he did no such 
thing, and that moreover, he never in his life 
had come across such a set of scandal-mongers 
as met weekly at her house. Of course she 
would wax highly indignant at his imperti- 
nence, and threaten to throw him out of the 
house by the ears, the next time he called. 

Mrs. Clarke, who was a good-hearted, fussy old 
soul, was very fond of him, and never thought 
of making a change anywhere about the house 
until she had first asked his opinion on the 
subject. 

“You know Peter is just like a woman around,’’ 
she would observe, “and I declare he knows 
more about my household affairs than I do 
myself.” 

On the day in question he lingered until after 
everyone else was gone, and then accepted Mrs. 


196 


A t’OCJAZ METEuJl. 


Clarke’s invitation to dine and spend the 
evening. 

‘‘May be it will brighten Georgie up if you 
stay,” she said, “for I can’t think what to do with 
her, she’s been so mopish ever since she came 
back from New York ; she must have been on 
the go too much. You know I never did approve 
altogether of Mrs. Thorne, she’s so frivolous.” 

“She’s all right, auntie,” uttered Georgie, re- 
provingly. 

“Of course, I don’t doubt she is,” pursued the 
old lady ; “but nevertheless she’s wonderfully 
fond of gadding about for a married woman.” 

“But surely that’s her own affair,” said Georgie 
again. 

“Yes, I know it is,” admitted Mrs. Clarke ; “but 
if she does such things she must expect to be 
talked about, mustn’t she, Peter ?” 

“Certainly, and if she was my wife I would 
treat her as I would a naughty child — box her 
ears and put her to bed until she learned better,” 
replied Peter, severely. 

“If she was your wife, my dear boy, she would 
do exactly as she pleased,” laughed Georgie ; 
“you wouldn’t get time to look after her.” 

“By the way,” remarked Mrs. Clarke, suddenly, 


A SOCIAL METkOU. 


197 


‘‘I meant to tell you I met Mrs. Upton at Mrs. 
Henderson’s yesterday, and she says that her sis- 
ter is almost dead about Jack. You know,” low- 
ering her voice to a stage whisper, that it might 
not reach the ears of John Henry, who was re- 
moving the tea-things, “he is living in New York 
now and is very sweet on some widow he met 
there. A most ordinary sort of person, but he 
fancies her so much, nevertheless, that they say 
he is actually going to marry her. She pretends 
to be wonderfully proper, and is always going to 
church. But I was told that she used to be an 
actress. Besides, they say he bets on horse 
races. Isn’t it a shame? And he with such 
prospects, too ! The worst of it is, Mrs. Upton 
says the Nelsons blame this poor child for it, and 
say that if she had treated him right he never 
would have been different. The idea!” wither- 
ingly. “Did you ever hear anything so unjust ? 
As if she could govern him I I’m only glad and 
thankful she didn’t marry him. Is that you, 
Katie ? I’ll be there directly. Well, I’ll see you 
at dinner, Peter.” And the old lady bustled out 
of the room, after the housekeeper. 

The two sat silent for a few moments after Mrs. 


198 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


Clarke had left them, and then Georgie said, in- 
terrogatively : 

“You received my note, I suppose?” 

“Doesn’t my presence testify to that fact ?” re- 
plied Peter. “And now I am awaiting your or- 
ders.” 

“Peter,” she said, suddenly clasping her hands 
and looking at him pleadingly, “you won’t refuse 
to do me a favor, will you ?” 

“No, of course I won’t.” 

“Even if I make what seems to you a strange 
request ?” 

“What are you driving at ? Out with it.” 

“Well, Peter, you know where this widow is 
living, don’t you ?” 

“N-no, not exactly ; but I could easily find out, 
I suppose. Why ?” 

“I wish you would, and then — I want you to 
take me there.” 

“Why, what are you thinking of? You don’t 
know her, and it would be out of the question to 
take you there,” returned Peter. 

“No, it wouldn’t ; I want to see her very par- 
ticularly, and, Peter, I must go ; if you don’t take 
iiic somebody else shall. I mean what I say.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


199 


^‘But you heard what your aunt just said — she’s 
a very ordinary sort of person.” 

“That makes no difference. Will you take 
me?” 

“I will not,” promptly. 

“Peter, do be nice ” 

“I am nice.” 

“No, you aren’t. Peter,” coaxingly, “do you 
remember that black-bear rug you admired so 
much at Pelt’s last month ?” 

An indifferent shrug of the shoulders was the 
only reply she received. 

“And those link sleeve-buttons we saw at Tif- 
fany’s when I was buying the pin for auntie ?” 
she continued. 

“Yes,” he answered, weakly. 

“Well, those will both find their way to fifty- 
four, if you will do this one little bit of a thing 
for me.” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head vigorously, 
“you must not ask me, I really can’t do it. Why, 
it’s absurd, preposterous! You don’t even know 
the woman, as I say.” 

But she saw that she had gained her point 
already, and she went on : 

“After all, you’re a dear, good fellow, and shall 


200 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


have your reward. Truly,’’ with a sigh of relief, 
“you never did a kinder action in your life than 
this.” 

“I haven’t said I would yet, and — tell me what 
you want of her ?” 

“You will, though,” she returned, “but I can’t 
tell you what I want of her. Are you sure you 
can find out the address ? Be here on Monday at 
three o’clock, and we’ll go then.” 

As he was leaving that night she managed to 
tell him, while her aunt was in another part of 
the room, that she would expect him, rain or 
shine. 

“Well, of course I won’t disappoint you, as 
you’ve evidently set your heart on going,” he said, 
“and I don’t suppose there’s any great impropri- 
ety in taking you there. Only it’s very foolish, 
for I’ve half an idea that you are going to talk 
about Jack to her, and if so you’ll be making a 
big mistake, I think. Still, as I say, I won’t re- 
fuse you.” 

“Don’t,” she pleaded. 

“But, all the same, I hate like fury to take you, 
and if Mrs. Clarke ever heard about it she’d be 
awfully put out. In fact, she might not welcome 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


201 


me the next time I called, and she’d be quite 
right, too.” 

“I would see about that,” replied Georgie. 
‘‘This is my house, you must remember, and I 
say you’ll always be welcome, particularly next 
Monda}!^ at three o’clock.” 

“You’d show much more sense, Georgie, if 
you’d give up this absurd notion and spend that 
afternoon with Grant. He’s dead spoons on you, 
and he’s worth a score of Jack Nelsons.” 

She flushed slightly. 

“I prefer to go with you,” she answered, coldly, 
“so don’t say anything more about it, please. 
Besides, although Lee Grant is, of course, very 
pleasant, I’ve no reason to believe he’s any more 
sincere than — the other ?” 

On Mondayj when he came for her he found 
her waiting impatiently for him. 

“You’re late,” she cried, running out into the 
hall to meet him, “and now we can only take the 
3:30 train. Make haste, we’ve no time to lose. I 
told auntie I was going out to dine with you, so 
it’s all right.” 

“Before we start, Georgie, I wish you would tell 
me what you want of this woman. I’m so afraid 
you’ll get in trouble with her,” he began afresh. 


202 


A SOCIAL MLTEOil. 


But she turned a deaf ear, as before, and hur- 
ried him to the railroad station. 

“She’s living in a flat,” he announced, as they 
rattled up Broadway in a cab, “and so there will 
perhaps be less danger of any one’s seeing you, 
which will be a blessing, as she’s decidedly not of 
your set. She’s the widow of a butcher, or some- 
thing vulgar.” 

“Stop your grumbling, you old grandfather,” 
she exclaimed, putting her hand playfully over 
his mouth, “you do worry so about trifles ! Pray, 
who’s to see me, and what of it if they do ? Am 
I so well known in the streets of New York that 
I cannot make a friendly call if I like? No one 
will know anything about it, though, not even 
Jack.” 

“I’m not at all sure about that, for I suppose 
she tells him everything, and it isn’t likely she’ll 
omit this.” 

“Well, I shall bind her to secrecy, at any rate, 
and then trust to her honor. That’s all any one 
can do.” 

He shrugged his shoulders in dismay. 

“But what if you meet him there ?” he asked. 

“I’ve chosen an hour when he^ will surely not 
be there,” she replied, “and I won't stay very 


A ilOCIAL METEOR. 


203 


long ; so be patient. By the way, you didn’t tell 
me her name ?” 

“Mrs. Kirkendale.” 

They alighted before a large brown stone 
apartment house, and after climbing two flights 
of stairs, rang the bell on one side of a door bear- 
ing the name “Kirkendale” on a narrow silver 
plate. 

A trim little servant answered it, and informed 
them that Mrs. Kirkendale was not at home, but 
that she expected her any moment. 

“Then I think I’ll wait a little while,” replied 
Georgie, promptly. 

“All right,” said Peter, “you go in, and I’ll 
come back in half an hour. Will that be soon 
enough ?” 

Georgie thought it would, and then stepped 
into the parlor. 

“Excuse, me, sir, I thought you had gone,” 
stammered the girl, flushing with consternation,' 
as a man rose from the sofa, which was partially 
hidden by a screen, and regarded them question- 
ingly. 

• “It makes no difference,” he observed, compo- 
sedly, “I ” 

But the rest of his sentence was never finished. 


204 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


for he sat staring in front of him as if he had seen 
a ghost. 

“Georgie!^’ 

^‘Jack!’’ 

“What on earth ever brought you here ?’’ he 
asked, as if he doubted his own eyes. 

“I didnh expect to see you,’’ she answered, 
faltering. 

“No? Are you then acquainted with Mrs. 
Kirkendale ?” 

“No.” 

“Then,” he went on, dismissing by a motion 
the servant, who, devoured by curiosity, was still 
lingering, “how did you find the house ?” 

“Never mind how I found it — I’ve known of 
her for a long time, and Jack — I’m so sorry.” 

“For whom, for me? You’re most bind, I’m 
sure. Still, I’m happy enough, so cease, I beg 
of you, to waste your pity on me.” 

He spoke coldly, as if he considered her an 
intruder. 

“Don’t talk so to me,” she returned, her eyes 
filling with tears, “if you knew how I’ve thought 
and grieved about you. How can you do as you 
do, when you know you are killing your mother 


A SOCIAL M El non. 


205 


by inches ? And your father, I saw him yester- 
day — his hair is almost white.’^ 

“I think I am old enough to take care of 
myself — it isn’t their money I’m living on.” 

“Money ? What has money to do with it ? I 
know they would willingly give every penny 
they possess to have you back again in the old 
way. Have you no regard, no pity for them ?” 

“Pity ? I don’t think they ask pity from me, 
or did they, indeed, send you to plead with me — 
to bring the prodigal back to the bosom of his 
family?” 

“Jack, how can you be so unjust? You can- 
not understand such love as theirs, or you would 
never talk in this way. Listen: I came here 
with no other purpose to-day than to ask, to beg, 
if necessary, this woman to give you up ; to go 
away and never see you again ; she’s not your 
equal in any way.” 

He stared at her blankly for a moment, and 
then burst into a loud laugh. 

“This is extraordinary,” he exclaimed ; “so my 
parents have actually commissioned you to lead 
me back to the path of duty ? Or else, they 
have worked upon your sympathies to such an 
extent that you volunteer to try the experiment 


206 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


of your own accord? You are all really most 
kind, in either case, and I thank you sincerely 
for the interest you still take in me, but I must 
inform you once and for all, that you are wasting 
your time and efforts, for I am a hopeless case, 
I assure you. To start with, I much prefer New 
York to R. — and so does Pauline. Now, as we 
expect to be married before many moons, why 
should I waste my time in such a miserable 
country hole? You see ’’ 

“Stop,’’ she cried, laying her hand on his arm. 
“I swear to you that your father and mother 
have nothing to do with my coming here — I 
haven’t spoken to either of them in months.” 

“Well?” 

“I came of my own free will,” she said. “I 
came,” and here she flushed painfully, “because 
I do still take an interest in you, as you say. I 
came because I believe I still love you, and my 
heart is breaking.” 

“You love me?” He repeated her words as if 
he scarcely understood them. 

“Yes, and,” bitterly, “unfortunately you still 
have the power to wound and hurt me, so be as 
light upon me as you can, please, for that reason 
if for no other.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


207 


“I never suspected — ” he began. 

‘‘No, you never suspected; I didn’t myself 
until lately. I hoped and believed all the old 
feeling was gone; that it had died when you 
grew tired of me and left me.” 

“I never grew tired of you, I ” 

But she interrupted him once more, this time 
a little impatiently. 

“Don’t seek to excuse yourself by falsehood,” 
she said ; “when you left me without a word or a 
syllable, I existed for months aimlessly, with no 
ambition for anything. At the mere mention of 
your name I would tremble, and if I had heard 
that you were going to marry any one else, I 
think I should have gone mad. For this reason 
I kept to myself, and so I heard nothing, until 
I believed that I had at last outgrown my sense- 
less passion — I even engaged myself to another, 
but what was the result ? One day somebody 
told me about this — this woman, and I have been 
miserable ever since. Turn which way I would, 

I could only think of her, and wonder if you cared 
for her as you once did for me. They say we 
women have dogs’ natures, and I believe we 
have, for try as I may, I cannot crush down the 
feeling I still have for vou I know it is foolish 


20S 


A SOCIAL METEOB, 


and unbecoming of me to acknowledge this ; I 
have been told that your whole heart is wrapped 
up in her, and yet, I cannot help it. I could 
not bear to see you marry her ; she is not your 
equal, and you are certain to repent, when it is 
too late. Oh, Jack, if it is my fate to care for 
you, in spite of everything, to be unhappy 
throughout all the long years which may yet be 
before me, vdll not you be generous and sacrifice 
a little for my sake ? Recollect how dearly you 
once loved me.’’ 

His face softened while she was speaking, and 
his eyes grew grave and sad. 

“Georgie,” he said, huskily, as she finished, 
“this distresses me more than I can tell you. I 
was brutal to you in the past, and how I ever 
could have treated you as I did is a mystery, 
even to myself ; I cannot bear to think of it. I 
repaid your love with indifference, and your de- 
votion with neglect. I confess it with shame. 
But I hoped that you would not take it to heart, 
as it seems you did ; I believed you would soon 
forget me, though not for a moment did I doubt 
your sincerity. But you were too good for me, 
I never was worthy of you, for when she crossed 
my path I thought no more of you. She fasci- 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


209 


nated and bewitched me, until now I am unhappy 
when she is out of my sight. She is cruel and 
designing, they all tell me, and I know it, and 
would toss me over like a bad penny, if by so 
doing she could better herself. She tortures me, 
and often makes my life a burden to me, and yet 

the very uncertaintj^ ” 

His voice was broken, and his hands sought 
hers, as if for sympathy. She leaned toward him; 
he could feel her swift, hot breath on his face. A 
wild, nameless hope sprang up in her breast ; she 
forgot everything — time, place, circumstances — 
all, excepting that she was with the man she had 
loved, that her hand lay in his, and his eyes were 
looking into hers. The weary months which she 
had passed were as but a span to her ; the days 
and nights she had spent in weeping were all for- 
gotten. She remembered only that she was sit- 
ting by his side, and that perhaps 

“Jack,’’ she whispered, timidly, “is it too late? 
Will you leave her and come with me ? I will 
devote my whole life to you, and we will go away 
together anywhere you like. If you are in need 
of money I, thank Heaven, have more than enough 
for us both, and we will begin over again. Only 


210 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


trust me, and I will make you happy, I know I 
can.” 

There was a sound in the outer hall, as of some 
one coming up stairs, then the rustle of a woman’s 
skirts. 

Jack looked uneasily toward the door, and 
then at Georgie, but she apparently had heard 
nothing. Then the steps ceased, and presently 
two voices mingled outside in low conversation, 
which reassured Jack, and the look of anxiety left 
his face. The blood was coursing wildly through 
Georgie’s veins, and she listened breathlessly for 
his answer. 

“I cannot give her up. I love her.” 

She fell back in her seat, with a low moan, at 
these words ; her hope was short-lived and had 
died a violent death. Humiliation, disappoint- 
ment, and despair, each in turn, took possession of 
h:r. 

Suddenly the door burst open and a gay, ring- 
ing laugh fell upon their ears. A woman, tall 
and superbly formed, stood before them. 

“A pretty picture, truly,” she cried, regarding 
the pair with snapping eyes. “Did you ever?” 
she continued, addressing nobody in particular, 
though Peter had unceremoniously followed her 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


211 


into the room ; “a fine sight to behold in one’s 
own parlor in broad daylight, isn’t it ? And who, 
my dear fiance.^ may this fair damsel, who comes 
to make love to you under my very nose, be ?,” 

Jack, at first taken aback by this unexpected 
attack, soon regained his presence of mind, and 
replied to her in a soothing tone : 

“My dear Pauline, you should not jump so 
hastily to conclusions. This 3^oung lady is my 
sister.” 

Peter, who was suffering tortures for fear Jack 
would be indiscreet in his reply, inwardly ap- 
plauded him for his tact. Then, pushing past the 
indignant Pauline, who was still regarding the 
two distrustfully, he said to Georgie : 

“If you’ll permit me I’ll take you home.” 

But Pauline evidently was not quite satisfied 
wdth the explanation she had received and was de- 
termined to go a little further into details. So to 
this end she braced herself against the door to 
prevent Georgie from escaping. 

“No, you w^on’t,” she said, sulkily, “not until 
you have rendered a little account of yourself. If 
you’re his sister (which I don’t believe), what 
brought you here, anyhow^ ?” 


212 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


Georgia opened her lips to speak, but Peter 
saved her the trouble. 

“Stand aside/’ he cried, imperiously, “or I’ll 
find means to make you, you ill-bred terma- 
gant.” 

There was no mistaking his tone, and she 
sullenly obeyed him, even though she was in her 
own house. 

“If I were you,” he added, with asperity, ad- 
dressing Jack, who sat silently by with an 
expression of helpless despair on his face, “I 
would profit by this unpleasant little experience. 
Let me give you a tip, will you? If you let 
her,” indicating Mrs. Kirkendale with a wave of 
his hand, “rule you in this way, she will lead 
you a merry dance, I can tell you,” and without 
waiting for a reply, he drew the frightened Geor- 
gie from the room. 


A SOCIAL METhOli. 


213 


CHAPTER XV. 

PETER’S STORY. 

‘‘Well, do you feel repaid for tlie trouble you 
have taken to secure this interview?” asked 
Peter, dryly, as the carriage drove off; “you know 
I warned you ” 

“I did not • suppose it would be pleasant,” re- 
plied Georgie, listlessly, “but I hardly expected 
to find her such a ” 

“Demon,” finished Peter, quickly ; “she cer- 
tainly is the Old Nick himself when she gets 
started, and her tongue is endless. She seemed 
in a fair way to get going this afternoon, only I 
put a stop to it. Did you notice how she put her 
hands on her hips, for all the world like a washer- 
woman ? And how those black eyes of hers 
glittered! I don’t envy Jack much. What a 
blind fbol a man in love is I” 

“I never saw a more ill-bred person in my life,” 
said Georgie. 

“I told you so, you will remember. She is a 
perfect shrew, and I can’t imagine why Jack ever 


214 


A S0C7AL METEOR. 


fancied her. Still, there is no accounting for 
tastes, you know. She undoubtedly would have 
pitched into you unmercifully if I hadn’t been 
there to keep her down. But, tell me, was the 
little chat you had with Jack satisfactory ? Did 
you accomplish your object?” 

“I found out all I wanted to know.” 

“That’s good,” he answered, cheerily, “and 
now I hope you’ll take my advice in future, and 
for Heaven’s sake promise me not to say anything 
about this to your aunt.” 

“You know I won’t ; she’d be as angry with 
me for going as at you for taking me. But did 
you ever meet this Mrs. Kirkendale before? You 
came into the room with her, didn’t you ?” 

“Yes, I met her on the stairs.” 

“Then you knew her ?” 

“Yes, I did meet her once, years ago.” 

“How ?” asked Georgie. 

“Oh, it’s quite a long story, my dear, and I 
should have to wade through it all if I told 
you any,” said Peter. “Shall I raise that win- 
dow for you ? It’s growing colder.” 

“Thanks. Please tell me about it, won’t 
you ?” 

Peter took off his hat to ascertain whether his 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


215 


piece of gum was safe, and finding that it was, he 
replaced it carefully upon his head. Then he 
looked at his watch. 

“Say, Peter, tell me how you met her.” 

“My good little girl, as I told you before, it’s a 
tedious story, and mightn’t interest you. Be- 
sides, it’s late, and I’m very hungry ; will you 
stop now and get dinner ?” 

“If you’ll promise me the story.” 

“Dear me, how persistent you are. You’re 
bound to hear it, aren’t you? Well, all right 
then, you shall, while we are attending to the 
wants of the inner man. After all, it will make 
a good story for the table, I fancy. But here we 
are at Delmonico’s.” 

The room -was unusually crowded, but they 
managed to get a table at the lower end, which 
suited them very well. Three or four acquaint- 
ances stopped to exchange a few words with them 
and then passed on, while Peter was leisurely 
examining the bill of fare. Finally he gave his 
order to the waiter. 

“We are in no hurry; you may take your 
time,” he observed loftily, in French, as the man 
moved away. “And now, Georgie,” he continued, 
in his mother tongue, “I’ll tell you the story 


216 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


which you are so anxious to hear. But first I 
must bind you to secrecy.’’ 

“Another mystery?” returned Georgie, smil- 
ingly ; “you’re full of them, Peter, aren’t you ?” 

“This is something which I wouldn’t have 
get around for the world,” he replied, putting 
great emphasis on the last word, “not for the 
world; it has never passed my lips yet, and 
wouldn’t do so now, if things hadn’t turned out 
so queerly to-day.” 

“As you like, then ; I pledge myself solemnly, 
never to repeat a syllable,” said Georgie, good- 
naturedly, “go on.” 

“Very well then. To begin with, you must 
know I was only a boy of eighteen when my 
grandfather died and left me his fortune, and at 
twenty-one I had entire control of it. Like 
most young fellows of my age, I was at once 
seized with a desire -to see something of the 
world, and I did ; I went the pace I tell you. I 
had a box at every theater in town, dressed like 
a lord, and dined and wined my numerous friends 
royally.” 

“I’ve heard all about that, hundreds of times,” 
declared Georgie, “and how you drove a four-in- 


A SOCIAL JIETWJi. 


217 


hand with all roan horses. Don’t dwell on that 
part of it.” 

“You must let me tell it in my own way, or I 
shall not tell it at all,” returned Peter, with 
dignity. “I like to dwell on those times — they 
were the happiest days of my life. Let me see, 
now, where w^as I ? Oh, yes, I remember. Well, 
to begin again, I took in everything, met every- 
body worth meeting, and spent my money like 
water. I often used to wonder what poor old 
grandfather would say if he could see me; it 
was enough to make him turn over in his grave, 
for of all the stingy, pinching old fossils I ever 
saw, he was the worst, while I — but money was 
never meant to be hoarded, was it ? ” 

“Certainly not,” agreed Georgie, indulgently. 

“So I think ; so I thought, and I lived like a 
prince. Of course almost immediately I got in 
with a set of rapid young fellows, all bent, like 
myself, upon enjoying themselves, and we went 
the rounds together. Odd as it may seem, I 
never cared particularly about drinking, while 
most of them did, but I was crazy over the 
theater, and would give up any champagne 
supper to go to a first night performance. The 
footlights had a peculiar fascination for me, 


218 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


though for what reason I can’t tell. Perhaps it 
was because I was kept so close at home, for 
grandfather would have raised his hands in holy 
horror at the mere mention of my going to such 
a wicked place, and yet ever so many of his 
hard-earned dollars went to buy bouquets for 
soubrettes and chorus girls. Well, one night 
four of us went to see a new comic opera, which 
had been upon the boards for about a week, but 
which I had not yet seen. The opening chorus 
seemed stupid enough to me, as it was composed 
entirely of men, and forty year old ^girls,’ but 
when the star made her appearance, I went wild 
with enthusiasm.” 

‘‘Was she so lovely?” asked Georgie. 

“She was a dream,” he answered, peppering 
his soup vigorously, “tall and slight, with the 
blackest hair and eyes I ever saw. And her 
skin was like milk and roses, even against the 
trying gown of pink tulle which she wore. She 
seemed to float upon the stage, rather than walk, 
and her movements were the perfection of grace. 
She was the sort of woman to make a man lose 
his head, and I lost mine on the spot. 

“As you may imagine, I immediately hunted 
up some one who could introduce, me. to this en- 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


219 


chantress, and fortunately I managed to come 
across a fellow who knew her, that very night. 
I found her, upon close inspection, if anything 
even more charming than at a distance, her man- 
ner being extremely modest, and her conversation 
simple and girlish. I went home with my brain 
on fire. In due time I discovered that she was 
the sole support of her widowed mother, and was 
living quietly with her in lodgings not far from 
the theater. I hastened there at the very first 
opportunity to pay my respects (saying nothing, 
however, to any of the boys, as I preferred to go 
alone), and in the meantime continued to send 
her bushels of flowers. The old lady, to whom I 
took an instant dislike, eyed me suspiciously, and 
told me plainly that she did not care about my 
calling to see Edith (that was her name, Edith 
Snow), as her daughter couldn’t spare the time 
to receive visits from gentlemen. This didn’t 
discourage me, however, for I contrived to get 
the object of my affections (I was soon madly in 
love, you see) to meet me sub rosa., and often 
when her mother supposed she was safe at re- 
hearsal, she was lunching, or driving with me 
behind my trotters, laughing to think how angry 
the old dame would be if she only knew. 


220 A SOCIAL METEOR, 

This went on for about two months, when one 
day she disappeared, without a word of warning. 
I was nearly distracted ; I inquired for her at the 
theater and at her boarding-house, but all in vain. 
She had gone, leaving no trace behind her. I 
went around like a madman for a week, unable 
to eat or sleep. I put pathetic personals in all 
the papers, hoping that some one of them' might 
reach her. But it was of no use; I could get no 
clew of her. 

“At last, one day in spring I went to see one 
of the men in our office off to Europe, and as I 
was about to leave the steamer, I suddenly spied 
her leaning over the rail, looking down at the 
crowd below. She was in traveling costume, and 
carried a bunch of roses in her hand. She was 
going to Europe. My heart sprang up into my 
throat, and my knees knocked together. I 
started to rush toward her, but she waved me 
back. Then, looking cautiously around her, she 
came forward to meet me. 

“I was furious at her for having led me such a 
chase, and had intended, if I ever found her 
again, to scold her roundly ; but at sight of her 
my anger vanished, and I could only press her 


A SOCIAL MElEOli. 


221 


hand and say over and over how glad I was to 
see her once more. 

“Where have you kept yourself all these 
months?’ I asked, reproachfully; ‘if you knew 
how I’ve hunted for you.’ 

“ ‘Oh, I’ve had such a terrible time,’ she an- 
swered. ‘Mamma found out that I used to meet 
you, and I thought I should never hear the last 
of it, she was so angry. Then, when I declared 
I would never give you up, she canceled my en- 
gagement at the theater, and took me off to 
Boston, making me promise never to see or write 
to you again. And now we are on our way to 
Paris, where I am to take lessons of Mine. La 
Grange, a famous singing teacher. I’m so un- 
happy,’ she continued, her eyes filling with 
tears, ‘for I hate to go. But how can I 
help it ?’ 

“Of course my indignation knew no bounds. 
I wanted to go down stairs and give the abomin- 
able old hag a large piece of my mind, then and 
there, but Edith pleaded with me so earnestly that 
I refrained, though my hands tingled to get at her. 

“ ‘But you won’t go with her,’ I said, ‘after 
such a display of tyranny on her part, will you ? 
Why, your life would be a burden to you.’ 


222 


A SOCIAL METEOn. 


“ ‘What can I do?’ she repeated, despairingly, 
‘you know she is my mother and will take care 
of me so long as I stay with her, but if I leave 
her I shall be left to starve, for I can get no 
engagement to sing at this time of the year.’ 

• “ ‘You won’t need any,’ I rejoined, gallantly. 
‘I love you, and you’ve said you love me. Come 
with me now, and we’ll get married.’ 

“She looked frightened, and blushed as she 
said, timidly : ‘Do you mean it, Peter ?’ ‘I never 
was more serious in my life,’ I replied. 

“Then, after a little more blushing and hesi- 
tating on her part, she put her hand on my arm, 
and we walked away together as unconcernedly 
as if we were not responsible for one person’s 
going through all the horrors of mal-de-mer on 
the ‘briny deep’ to no purpose. 

“ ‘Where is your mother ?’ I asked, as we made 
our way out of the crowd. 

“ ‘Down stairs, attending to her trunk,’ she an- 
swered ; ‘she won’t miss me until after the steamer 
starts.’ 

“I was thankful for that, as I was not over- 
anxious to have her shouting at me for trying to 
kidnap her daughter, and perhaps make me the 
center of interest on the dock, for even a few 


A SOCIAL METKOR. 


m 


minutes. So I hurried Edith along to the Fifth 
Avenue Hotel, while I went to make arrange- 
ments for our marriage, and by four o’clock we 
were man and wife.” 

“So, then, you’ve actually been married,” ex- 
claimed Georgie, “and no one has ever known 
of it?” 

“No, for I guarded the secret jealously, and am 
sure Edith never knew who any of my relatives 
were. She understood perfectly that in marrying 
her I had stooped considerably, and either she 
was governed by a sense of delicacy or else she 
was not particularly interested in my family 
affairs, for she never attempted to pry into them. 

“We traveled for a month and then settled 
down in Baltimore, as Edith fancied that city 
especially, and I did not care about living in New 
York with her, for I knew a hundred questions 
would be certain to be asked if we did.” 

“And the mother?” inquired Georgie. 

“Oh, we sent her a line of explanation, and 
after that we heard nothing of her for months and 
months. Whether she raved and tore around the 
steamer when she became aware of her daughter’s 
disappearance, or whether she took it philosophi- 
cally, I never heard. But to continue: We lived 


•224 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


in Baltimore for two 3^ears. I took a house in the 
pleasantest part of the city and turned it into the 
most delightful little home ever occupied by two 
lovers. I had to run up to New York about once 
every three months to see how my affairs were 
getting along, but I always hurried back as fast 
as I could to my wife and child.” 

“This is too amusing, Peter,” interrupted 
Georgie, “to think of your being a husband, and 
father without one of us knowing anything about 
it. No wonder you are so eccentric. But go on.” 

“Those two years fairly flew by, and at the end 
of them we found that we had quite an extensive 
circle of friends. Edith was fond of society, and 
loved to entertain (which she could do as well as 
any woman I ever knew), and I was glad to see 
her enjoy herself. Her voice was exquisite, and 
as she was always obliging when asked to sing, 
she soon became very popular. 

“She never alluded to her theatrical career, and 
not one of her new acquaintances even suspected 
that she had once danced in gauze to the delight 
of the gilded youth of New York. She seemed 
as happy as the day was long, and was the pride 
and delight of my life. Things went swimmingly 
with us until one day, without a word of warning. 


A 6VCIAZ 


225 


her mother pounced down upon us. I was away 
when she arrived, and you may picture to your- 
self my delight upon beholding her waiting to 
welcome me on my return ! I flew into a rage 
and accused my wife of sending for her during 
my absence. 

“ ‘But she shall not stay,’ I cried ; ‘she may 
pack right up and go back where she came from, 
the old serpent.’ Then Edith burst into tears 
and sobbed out that she was her mother, and as 
such I had no right to insult her. So I calmed 
down presently, and the upshot of the matter was 
that the old lady remained. I could find no fault 
with her, either, for that matter, as she behaved 
very decently and gave no trouble whatever. But 
she was no sooner settled in the house than I no- 
ticed a change in Edith. From the most obedient 
, of wives, she became willful and headstrong, de- 
termined to do exactly as she pleased. She in- 
sisted upon receiving and going to see whomso- 
ever she pleased, my wishes in the matter being 
of no importance whatever. At first I was aston- 
ished ; then I became enraged, and at last, in 
sheer desperation went to my mother-in-law to 
beg her to use her influence with her daughter. 
She assured me that she would do her best, but 


226 


A SOCIAZ MZTWIi. 


feared her efforts would be of less avail even than 
mine. 

“ ‘I believe she is possessed of the very devil/ 
said I pointedly, and Mrs. Snow solemnly agreed 
with me. 

“One afternoon, about a month after my mother- 
in-law’s arrival, I saw her slip a letter into my 
wife’s hand, when she thought I was not looking. 
I turned hastily, and demanded it. 

“ ‘I gave her no letter,’ asserted Mrs. Snow in 
an aggrieved tone. 

“ ‘You lie,’ I exclaimed, ‘I saw you with my own 
eyes.’ 

“ ‘Why, how could you?’ asked Edith quickly, 
‘your back was turned.’ 

“ ‘I know it was,’ I cried, ‘but you forget there is 
a mirror over the mantel.’ 

“Both women looked frightened, but still in- 
sisted that I was accusing them unjustly. Mrs. 
Snow flounced from the room in a huff. When 
we were alone I grasped my wife by the shoulders 
and again asked for the letter, but she broke 
from me and ran up stairs. Neither of them ap- 
peared at dinner, and so little Pierre and I took 
it alone together. That night I expressed my 
opinion of her mother in pretty plain terms to 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


227 


Edith, ending up with the announcement that 
either she or I would leave the house. 

‘You’ve been a different woman since she came 
here,’ I went on, ‘she seems to have an evil 
influence over you. I never could endure her 
anyway, as you well know, and now the time has 
come when she must leave.’ 

“ ‘Don’t worry about that,’ retorted Edith, ‘she 
has no desire to stay where she’s not welcome, 
and she is going to-morrow morning.’ 

“And so she did ; when I came down to break- 
fast her place was vacant. 

“I was delighted, for I thought we should then 
have a little peace, but alas ! I deceived myself 
Things went worse than before, and my troubles 
began in earnest. Edith became absolutely un- 
manageable ; she took no pains to please me, but 
on the contrary, seemed to be trying her best to 
make me miserable, and she succeeded, admir- 
ably. We quarreled incessantly, and when she 
wasn’t calling me hard names or stamping her 
foot at me, she was sulking by herself She 
wrote and received numberless letters, (the con- 
tents of which I was never permitted to see), 
vowing that her mother was her only correspond- 
ent. Oh ! it was delightful, I assure you ! At 


228 


A tv Cl A L METEOR. 


last, I could endure it no longer ; so one day I 
told her I would make over the house to her and 
give her enough to live upon, but that I was 
going back to New York. I thought if I should 
go away from her for a while, she might feel 
ashamed of her conduct, and agree to behave her- 
self But I was determined to put an end to 
this cat and dog existence, even if I never saw 
her again. She saved me all further trouble, 
however, by taking matters into her own hands, 
for I had no sooner turned my back, than she 
sold the house and decamped, taking with her 
ever}^' article of value that she could not dispose 
of at once.” 

“Oh,” ejaculated Georgie, breathlessly. 

“Yes, she skipped off with a good round sum, 
after sending me a couple of lines, begging me 
to be kind to Pierre, and forget her as speedily as 
I could, as she had tired of domestic life, and 
was going to return to the stage; which in- 
structions I followed to the letter, too.” 

“Didn’t you try to find her ?” 

“Not much. I nearly broke my neck doing 
that once before, and I didn’t care to repeat the 
experiment. Oh, no, when she left me this time 
I saw right through the whole business ; I had 


A SOCIAL METJiOM. 


229 


been made a dupe of. I, of course, was obliged 
to retrace my steps, to look after tbe boy, whom 
she had sent out in the country in charge of a 
nurse, and then I came back to New York for 
the last time, to ruminate at my leisure over the 
gullibillity of youngsters who think they ‘know 
it all.’ After the statutory time had elapsed I 
got a divorce. “Ten o’clock,” he exclaimed, in- 
terrupting himself, “shall we start? There’s 
plenty of time, but we’ll walk a little, if you say 
so, and I’ll smoke a cigar.” 


230 


A SOCIAL METEOB. 


CHAPTER XVI. 
georgie’s letters. 

“The next time I saw her,’^ he resumed, between 
two puffs, five minutes later, “was in Chicago. 
She was riding on Michigan avenue with an old 
fellow, who, I afterward learned, was the manager 
of a burlesque troupe. She didn’t see me, but I 
got an excellent view of her. She looked mighty 
well, in her habit, and sat her horse magnifi- 
cently. She was a little stouter, and a trifle 
more florid than when I had last had the pleasure 
of letting my eyes rest upon her, but was still a 
very attractive woman. She is much too stout, 
and altogether too florid for my taste now ; still 
some men might make fools of themselves over 
her, even yet.” 

“Then you’ve met her lately ?” 

Peter started. 

“Why, of course,” he replied, “no later than 
this afternoon. Do I speak in parables, my 
dear? Mrs. Kirkendale and my late wife are 
one and the same person,” 


A &'OCIAZ METEOR. 


231 


For a short time after this speech there was 
silence between them. Georgie had had no idea 
that this was to be the point of his story, and 
now it struck her like a blow. She did not know 
whether to be pained or amused, whether to cry 
or to laugh. She could only marvel dumbly at 
the mysterious workings of fate. 

Finally Peter spoke again. 

“It is a thousand pities,’’ said he, sincerely, 
“that she should have gotten Jack within her 
clutches, though, for she’ll squeeze him as she 
would a grape, until she can get no more out of 
him. Then she’ll sail off some fine day, and he 
may die in the gutter for all she’ll care. Between 
her mother and herself, a man must be pretty 
shrewd to get away with so much as the price of 
a shave. They certainly believe in making hay 
while the sun shines, if any two people ever 
did.” 

“But the boy, what became of him?” 

“Oh, he’s all right. I’ve taken the best of 
care of him, poor lad ; I’ve had to be mother and 
father both to him. When he was old enough I 
sent him to school, and now he is at college, 
where he’s getting along splendidly. Every 
summer I take him traveling for two or three 


232 


A jSOCJAL METKOli, 


months, so in that way he has been almost all 
over this country, and next year I’m going to 
show him what there is to be seen on the other 
side. He’s a great comfort to me, that boy, and 
shall be my constant companion when I bring 
him home for good.” 

“How astonished people will be,” murmured 
Georgie. 

“Without doubt, just at first, but there are so 
many odd things happening every day, that their 
excitement will soon die out.” 

“Tell me,” she asked again, “did she recognize 
you to-day, after so many years ?” 

“Why, certainly,” he replied, with alacrity, 
“she’s the one who has changed, not I. It’s pos- 
sible I may be a little balder and more dignified- 
looking than I was then (I hope I am the latter), 
but otherwise I am about the same as I was when 
she last saw me. I’m one of those persons who 
grow old very slowly.” 

“Mr. Conceit ” 

“Oh, yes, I am, I know it. So, you see, she 
would have no trouble in recognizing me. You 
should have seen her face when I took off my hat ' 
to her ; she looked as if she would drop to the 
earth.” 

“Did you speak first ?” 

“Yes, I bowed elegantly, and then I said, as 
politely as I could, ^How are you, Mrs, I am 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


233 


not aware of your present name, and I don’t flat- 
ter myself you have done me the honor to bear 
mine all these years— but I trust you’re well?” 

“What did she say? She answered you, of 
course ?” 

“Of course, the miserable tramp — I should say 
she did, although at first she was very much in- 
clined to brush past me (we met on the stairs, 
you know) without a word. But I told her not 
to make a fool of herself by putting on any of 
her airs with me ; so she behaved herself after 
that, and we had quite a pleasant chat outside. 
Then I asked her if she was married again, and 
how her mother was, and she asked me to 
come in and she would tell me all about it. 
Imagine my surprise at walking in where you 
and Jack were sitting.” 

Then there was another pause, of longer dura- 
tion, and this time it was Georgie who broke the 
silence. 

“Peter,” she said suddenly, “when I die I will 
leave all my money to your son — my cousin.” 

Peter gave the little hand which rested on his 
arm an affectionate squeeze. 

“Don’t,” he begged, with mock horror, “for if 
you do, his estimable mother will manage, by 
hook or crook, to get it all away from him in less 
than no time, depend upon it. But you are very 


234 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


kind, nevertheless, and' I thank you in his name 
and my own.” 

“It might be arranged, though, so that she 
couldn’t touch it,” she pursued, “mightn’t it ?” 

“Oh, I suppose so, but don’t let’s talk about 
that now; you have years and years to enjoy it 
in yourself first, I hope. There will be time 
enough to think of him when you are the forlorn, 
spectacled old maid that you threaten to be,” he 
responded, smiling down at her. 

“I never said that,” she returned, seriously. 

“No ? I thought you did.” 

“What I said was that I never should marry, 
and I don’t think I ever shall.” 

“Pooh ; that sounds like such folly. We shall 
see.” ^ 

“Yes, we shall see,” she echoed. 

Mrs. Clarke, who had waited up for them, was 
dozing in her chair when they came in, but 
started up guiltily as their voices fell upon her 
ear. 

“Dear me,” she exclaimed, apologetically, “I 
must have actually fallen asleep, as I didn’t hear 
you ring at all ; this room is so warm. Come 
right in, Peter, and have some tea; you, too, 
Georgie, won’t you ? No ? Then do go on up to 
your room, as you must be tired, and you need 
sleep.” 

“Yes,” chimed in Peter, who could never refrain 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


235 


from giving Mrs. Clarke little pieces of advice on 
the subject of her beloved charge whenever an 
occasion offered itself, “I’m sure she’s tired — worn 
out, in fact, with all this dissipation. Really, 
Mrs. Clarke, if I were you I would put a stop to 
her sitting up so late nights ; it’s beginning to 
tell on her ; she scarcely ate a morsel at dinner.” 

“You don’t say so ?” she replied, anxiously. 
“Well, fortunately Lent is here, and she can 
rest. Girls are so different now from what 
they were when I was young. Then they 
used to go to bed at nine o’clock and get up at 
seven. Now they never think of closing their 
eyes before midnight or coming down stairs before 
ten the next morning. I don’t see how they ever 
stand it ; it would kill me in a month — like a slow 
torture. Yet it’s the fashion, and they might as 
well be out of the Avorld as out of style, so they 
are taught. But for my part, I think it’s posi- 
tively dreadful, and I wonder half of them don’t 
die before their first winter ‘out’ is over.” 

“It’s all wrong,” acquiesced Peter, with a sage 
shake of his head, “and the good old-fashioned 
custom was much better for them, as they will 
find out in the long run. Look at yourself now, 
for instance ; did ever any one see a finer specimen 
of well preserved womanhood than you are. Per- 
fect health personified, and many a young girl 


236 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


would give a little finger to possess your com- 
plexion.” 

“Go away with you, you flatterer,” retorted 
Mrs. Clarke, simpering, “you mustn’t try to spoil 
an old lady like me. But really now,” bridling, 
“do you know I was considered a very good-look- 
ing woman in my day.” 

“Of course you were,” said Peter, courteously, 
“you haven’t gotten over it yet, either. Ah,” with 
a meaning sigh, “if I were a few years older, and 
you weren’t so devoted to the memory of the late 
Mr. Clarke ” 

“How the boy does talk,” she broke in with a 
vain little smile, “when I’m old enough to be his 
mother.” 

“Oh, no ; you’re not,” declared Peter, emphati- 
cally, “not by a good deal.” 

“Indeed I am, quite.” 

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Peter. “You don’t look 
a day over forty.” 

“Well, I am, a little,” she admitted, and then 
resolved to let well enough alone, and not lay her- 
self open to any closer questioning, she went on, 
suavely : 

“Wouldn’t you like to smoke ? You can just 
as well as not, for I always used to sit in the room 
with poor Frank when he indulged in his evening 
cigar. You’ll find a box in that table drawer.” 

“Thanks,” replied the artful Peter, “I will if 


A SOCIAL MEIEOK 


237 


youVe no objections — you always have my favor- 
ite brand.” 

“Yes, I got to know a good deal about them 
during my husband’s life ; he enjoyed his weed so 
much. I wasn’t fussy about letting him smoke 
in my parlors, and it was such a comfort to him.” 

“It must have been,” returned Peter, promptly. 
“Women make a great mistake in being too fas- 
tidious — it disgusts men and takes away all the 
pleasure of home life. It’s that sort of thing 
which drives husbands out of the house to seek 
places where they can have a little freedom. Now 
I’ll wager Mr. Clarke wasn’t a club man,” he ven- 
tured. 

“Well, he occasionally spent an evening out, 
and I believe he was a member of some club or 
other,” she replied, hesitatingly. 

“Of course, of course,” assented Peter, hastily, 
afraid he had ^put his foot in it ;’ most men do 
belong to a club at some time or other during 
their lives. But what I mean is this going out 
night after night, and staying till all hours.” 

“Oh, he never did that, mercy ! I should hope 
not. No, Frank was always most attentive.” 

“So I’ve understood,” remarked Peter. “He 
must have been a model husband, from all 
accounts.” 

“Yes,” uttered the widow, “I couldn’t find his 
equal if I traveled the world over. Poor dear 


238 


A SOCIAL METEOR 


Frank,” she continued with a fluttering sigh, 
“he was so kind, so generous, so ” 

“Of course, I’m sure he was a great exception 
to the general rule,” interrupted Peter, hurriedly. 
He was becoming bored by the conversation, 
which bade fair to be prolonged indefinitely, so he 
arose presently and said he must be going. 

“Don’t be in a hurry,” she urged, “but if you 
must go, come over very soon again, won’t you ? 

I always like to see you.” 

He promised and took his departure, after 
again exhorting Mrs. Clarke to look after her 
niece. 

It was late that night when Mrs. Douglass, the 
housekeeper, went up stairs. First she had her 
account books to examine, and as she was rather 
a poor calculator, she did not finish this until the 
clock had struck half-past eleven. When she 
did raise her eyes from her work, she felt posi- 
tively giddy from the strain, and figures danced 
upon the walls in front of her for five minutes 
afterward. She rose from the kitchen table, 
where she had been sitting,with a yawn of weari- 
ness, and a feeling of wrath against the butcher, 
whose bill was larger this month, than she 
thought it ought to have been. 

“It’s remarkable how these tradesmen need- 
watching,” she soliloquized as she carefully wiped 
her pen upon a piece of chamois skin, and put it 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


239 


away. ‘^They’re all alike, and will cheat if they 
get the chance, as quick as look at you. The 
idea ! the meat bill for this past three weeks is as 
big as it was last month, and scarcely a soul of 
company in the house while Miss Georgie was 
away visitin’. I wonder if he takes me for a 
natural born fool ? I’ll lay him out to-morrow 
when he comes, as sure as my name is Kate 
Douglass.” 

Then she put the chairs in their places and 
gave the fire a final raking; but her troubles 
were not yet over. Susan, the chambermaid, 
had gone out again without permission, and Mrs. 
Douglass was determined to wait up for her. 

“I’m just in proper trim to give her a good 
talking to,” she continued, grumblingly. “As if 
I didn’t have enough to ’tend to, without having 
to set up until morning for /ler^ the good-for- 
nothing little minx. This makes the third time 
she has done so, too, and it’s always her mother 
who’s sick. Mother, indeed ; it’s probably some 
follower, she meets. I never ought to have en- 
gaged her in the first place, with her meek eyes 
and red cheeks. Those innocent ones always 
turn out the most unreliable, and I might have 
known it. Well, I’m getting paid for my sus- 
ceptibility to good looks, and I deserve it.” 

She glanced around in search of some employ- 
ment with which to while away the time, but 


240 


A SOCIAL METKOli, 


finding nothing, decided to go up to her room and 
continue her vigil there. 

“She’ll have to go by my door, when she 
comes np,” she argued, “and I might just as well 
be improving my mind readin’ that last magazine 
article on ‘Every Woman Her Own Dressmaker,’ 
until I hear her creepin’ slyly past.” And 
arrayed in a calico bedroom gown, of no partic- 
ular shape, with a snowy night-cap covering her 
rather scanty locks, she was soon oblivious to all 
around her, so deeply interested was she in the 
suggestions as to how to cut and fit a waist prop- 
erly. About two hours later she lifted her eyes 
from her book, and like a flash, her thoughts 
returned from the region of ribbons and laces, 
into which they had wandered, for she heard a 
sound in the hall. It was slight, but distinct, 
and she was sure it was the delinquent Susan. 
She drew herself up stiffly, and prepared to 
pounce down upon her the moment she should 
appear in sight. Suddenly she heard a short 
muffled shriek, and a moment later Susan came 
rushing down the hall with her hat thrown back 
and her eyes staring. 

“Oh, my sakes,” she panted, “I never was so 
scared in all my days!” 

“What’s the matter, you little gad-about?” 
asked Mrs. Douglass, severely; putting her sharp 
spectacled nose out of the door. “You look as if 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


241 


you Had seen a ghost. Are you drunk or 
crazy 

“I see a ghost, Mrs. Douglass ; indeed I did,’’ 
returned the girl, with chattering teeth. 

“Stop your noise, simpleton — you’ll wake the 
whole house up,” commanded Mrs. Douglass ; 
“don’t you know there’s no such thing as a ghost 
existing anywhere outside of your own stupid 
mind ? It’s your guilty conscience that’s troub- 
ling you. Any girl who stays out till this time 
of night must expect to see all kinds of uncanny 
things. Where have you been ?” 

“My mother was sick, and I’ve been with her,” 
she answered, still shivering. “She sent for me.” 

“Humph ! the same old story ; well, come to 
bed, and we’ll talk it over in the morning. I’ll 
not put up with such goings-on, I can tell you. 
Did you put the gas out in the kitchen ?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” meekly. “But as true as I 
live, Mrs. Douglass, I believe this house is 
haunted. With my two eyes I saw a woman in 
white ” 

“It w^as your own reflection in a looking-glass. 
Come, be off with you now. I want to get a 
wink of sleep before it’s time to get up, if I can.” 

“I know it wasn’t a looking-glass, and I can’t 
go to bed this night with that creature, whatever 
it is, so near me,” replied the girl stubbornly. 

“Where did you see it ?” asked Mrs. Douglass, 


242 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


with asperity. “Show me the place, and we’ll 
have an end to this tomfoolery.” 

“It was down the hall in the wing.” 

“Why,, there isn’t a soul in the house ever 
goes into that room, and no one excepting my- 
self knows where the ke}^ is.” 

“Well, somebody is in it now,” persisted Susan, 
“and I know it.” 

“Come with me, then.” 

“Oh, no, ma’am — not for worlds,” uttered 
Susan, timidly, drawing back. 

“Yes, you will,” remarked Mrs. Douglass, 
firmly, taking her by the arm. “I want to show 
you what a fool you can be when you want to.” 

So, much against her will, poor Susan was 
obliged to accompany the now thoroughly pro- 
voked housekeeper down the long hall. 

When within a few feet of the room in ques- 
tion, Mrs. Douglass slackened her pace, and even 
hesitated a little, for she saw that the door was 
ajar, and a dim light showed through the crack. 
Ashamed to acknowledge the “strange feeling” 
which crept over her, however, she took courage 
and peeped cautiously into the chamber. What 
she saw caused her to jump back with a little 
exclamation of fright. 

“You see, ma’am,” whispered Susan, clutching 
the older woman’s dress nervously, “I was right, 
and you had better come away.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


243 


^‘Stop your chattering, ninny, exclaimed Mrs. 
Douglass, stepping in. 

It was an old-fashioned chamber, with a high 
bed in one end, and an oak secretary in the other. 
There was no fire in it, as the apartment was sel- 
dom occupied, unless the rest of the house was 
over-crowded, and it was as cold as a barn. The 
lower drawer of the escritoire was opened, and 
close by, on a foot-stool, stood a lighted candle, 
which threw its feeble rays upon the upturned 
face of a white-robed woman stretched motionless 
upon the floor. 

“Donh go in, ma’am, please don’t,” begged 
Susan, crossing herself devoutly, as the house- 
keeper, plucking up her courage, pressed boldly 
forward. 

“Fathers alive !” she exclaimed in terror, when 
she had hastily scanned the features of the re- 
cumbent figure, “it’s enough like my dead mis- 
tress to be her, but it can’t be — no, it must be 
Miss Georgie, and whatever is she doing here? 
She has fainted, anyway, that’s one sure thing, 
and there’s no knowing how long she’s been un- 
conscious in this icy room. It’s a miracle if she 
ever gets over it. Susan, get me some water as 
quick as you can.” 

But Susan stood staring, open-mouthed, and 
did not move. 


244 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


“Run, will you?” cried Mrs. Douglass, im- 
patiently, “there’s some in the dining-room.” 

“Lor’, ma’am, I should never dare to go there 
all in the dark, and the wind whistling like this ; 
I should be scared to death 1” 

“Well, upon my soul, you’re the greatest cow- 
ard I ever saw,” returned Mrs. Douglass, in 
mingled anger and disgust ; “but perhaps you 
can go as far as my room and get the brandy 
flask off the washstand, do you think you can, 
as it’s possibly a question of life and death ?” 

“I’ll do that,” replied the terrified chamber- 
maid, starting off on her errand. 

“You’re very kind, I’m sure,” observed Mrs. 
Douglass, tartly, proceeding to rub her young 
lady’s cold hands vigorously, “I didn’t know as 
you’d have the nerve.” 

Presently she was gratified by seeing the 
closed lids slowly open, and the pale lips move, 
but there was no sign of recognition in the dark 
eyes, nor did the words she spoke contain any 
meaning. 

“Poor darlin’ child,” muttered the housekeeper, 
“what is the matter now ? Tell your own old 
Kate, what indticed you to come up here in such 
a dreadful cold place ? It’s enough to give you 
your death.” 

Then her sharp eyes fell upon a bundle of 
letters, yellow with age and tied with a faded 


A SOCIAL ME7LVR 


245 


pink ribbon, lying beside Her on tlie floor. With 
her quick woman’s perception, she instantly con- 
cluded that these epistles had something to do 
with her young lady’s present condition ; so she 
snatched them up in a bunch and threw them 
into the drawer. 

By the time Susan returned with the brandy, 
she had her sitting up, and a few minutes later 
Georgie had quite recovered consciousness, much 
to Kate’s delight. 

“And now. Miss Bravery, you may turn in for 
the night,” remarked the housekeeper to the 
chambermaid, “unless indeed, you’re afraid to 
sleep alone. But mind you say nothing about 
this to any one in the morning, or it will cost 
you your place. I’ll take care of Miss Wheatley, 
and see that she’s safely put to bed. Come now, 
dearie,” she continued, affectionately addressing 
Georgie, “see if you can walk a little, for it won’t 
do to stay here another minute. That’s right,” 
as the young girl allowed herself to be led, 
almost carried to her room. “Now sit in this 
easy-chair by the fire until I make you a nice 
warm toddy. It’ll bring you around in no time. 
But don’t you do the like of this again, as it 
is enough to kill you. Why, I declare, you’ve 
got a regular chill. Now, where on earth is that 
sugar ? I’m so flustered, I hardly know what 
I’m doing.” 


246 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


^ ‘There it is behind you on the chair,’’ said 
Georgie, feebly. “Why,” she exclaimed, with 
surprise, “can that clock be right ?” 

“Yes, miss, it wants only five minutes to two,” 
answered Mrs. Douglass. “You must have been 
lyin’ there goodness knows how long, and it’s 
a miracle you didn’t get your death. Only for 
that pesterin’ Susan, who kept me up nearly all 
night waitin’ for her, you might be there ’till 
mornin’. ’Twas she spied you first.” 

“Yes, I know, I went into that room to look 
over some papers ; I thought I would be undis- 
turbed there.” 

“But where did you find a key to fit the door. 
Miss Georgie ? I didn’t know there was but one 
in the house, the one I have in my bunch.” 

“Oh, yes, I’ve had one for a year. I often go 
in there to write; that old desk just suits me.” 

“Well, I declare, and me never to know it,” 
exclaimed Mrs. Douglass with astonishment. 
“Susan saw you in there and came racing to me, 
screaming that she had seen a ghost.” 

“Poor Susan! It was too bad to frighten 
her,” uttered Georgie, with a faint smile. “I’m 
sorry.” 

“No occasion, I’m sure, miss,” returned the 
housekeeper quickly, “it may teach her a lesson ; 
I hope it will. She had no business to be out at 
such an hour. It isn’t respectable.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


247 


“Well, you see, Katie, if slie Hadn’t gone out 
slie would not Have discovered me,” remarked 
Georgie. 

“True enougH, but,” protested Kate, “sHe dis- 
obeyed me flat.^ and I can’t stand tHat from any 
chambermaid.” 

“You’ll let Her off this time, though, won’t 
you ?” 

Mrs. Douglass tossed Her Head, but made no 
reply to the question, asked Half pleadingly. 
Half authoritatively. 

“Do now, that’s a good creature,” continued 
Georgie. “Scold Her to-morrow, if you think 
best, but don’t send Her off. Her fright has been 
almost punishment enough, I should think.” 

“Well, I’ll keep her, of course, as you say, 
miss,” responded Mrs. Douglass, respectfully, 
“but I really think she ought to go. Once a girl 
finds she can pull the wool over your eyes, she’ll 
try to do it again. It’s a bad plan to put up with 
any nonsense from servants, I’ve discovered. 
Still,” rather resentfully, “as you wish her to 
stay, stay she must, I suppose.” Then, turning 
abruptly away, she gave her entire attention to 
the mixture she was preparing, while Georgie 
leaned back in her chair and watched her lan- 
guidly. 

“Katie,” said Georgie, after a pause, “did you 
ever feel as though you would rather die than 


248 


A 6'OCIAL METEOli, 


live ? As thougli there was nobody in the whole 
wide world whom you ever wished to see again 
^‘Bless my soul, Miss Georgie, never re- 
sponded the good woman, in consternation ; “what 
a dreadful question 
“Can yon imagine it 
Katie shook her head solemnly. 

“Not unless I had lost my health, and all my 
friends had gone clean against me,’’ she answered 
seriously, “but even then it’s doubtful whether I 
would really care about deliberately lying down 
and dying. There’s an awful lot that’s pleasant 
and agreeable in this world. Miss Georgie, and I 
think we ought to enjoy it as well as we can, if 
only in gratitude to the Almighty, who put us 
here.” 

“But if the Almighty lays burdens upon us so 
heavy that we can see nothing pleasant in living?” 

“We mustn’t despair. Miss Georgie. Trials 
come to all of us at one time or another ; but they 
leave us, too, after awhile, if we’re patient under 
them,” returned Mrs. Douglass, reprovingly. “If 
I might make so bold as to ask, though, I would 
like to know if anything is grieving you, that you 
talk so.” 

“Yes, something is grieving me, Katie, and I 
shall never get over it.” 

“Oh, now, Miss Georgie, take heart! You’re 
young, and have so much to be thankful for. 


A SOCIAL METEOR, " 


249 


Whatever it is that’s troubling you will blow over 
after a bit, and you’ll be as happy as ever.” 

“Perhaps, but I don’t think so. I haven’t a 
hope iu life,” returned Georgie, in a tone of con- 
viction. “There were some letters up-stairs,” she 
continued ; “did you see them?” 

“Yes, miss, I tumbled them all into the drawer 
of the desk. I thought maybe 3^011 had been read- 
ing something sad, and that had affected you. So 
I put them out of sight.” • 

“Get them for me, won’t you ? Be particular 
to bring them all.” 

“If you tell me to, of course. Miss Georgie ; but 
I am afraid they will make you ill again,” remon- 
strated Mrs. Douglass. 

“No, I don’t want to read them ; I’m going to 
destroy them.” 

“Very well, but you will drink this now? It’s 
piping hot.” 

“Afterward. I want the letters first. Make 
haste, please.” 

So Katie obediently went for the letters and 
laid them on her lap. Georgie rose and threw 
them into the fire, one by one, watching them 
with compressed lips as they burned. 

“See the flames devour them!” she exclaimed; 
“they seem to enjoy it, don’t they ? Think what 
a waste of time and paper that was, Katie, for 
those letters never brought anything but misery ; 


250 


A SOCIAI METEOR 


they were written lies, base lies. Here, give me 
the poker, so that I can make them burn faster. 
Ah, that’s something like a blaze ; they can never 
do any more mischief, never break any more 
hearts, can they ?” and she accentuated every 
other word with a blow from the poker, laughing 
with wild, unnatural gayety as the paper wilted 
under the heat. 

‘‘Lor’, Miss Georgie,” cried Katie, alarmed at 
the* strangeness of her behavior, “don’t do so,” 
coaxingly, “or you’ll make yourself sick again. 
Take this, now, and come to bed, that’s a dear, 
and I’ll cover you up like I did when you were 
a child, and you’ll be quite yourself in a little 
while. Come, I’m waiting.” 

But even as she spoke, Georgie reeled and fell 
back in a swoon, and by morning she was raving 
in delirium. 


A /SOCIAL JILTLOB, 


251 


CHAPTER XVII. 

WILY MRS. THORNE. 

Mrs. Thome was “not at home.’’ To begin 
with, she had spent an almost sleepless night, 
full of terrible dreams and melancholy thoughts, 
and she had counted every hour after four o’clock. 
At eight, thoroughly exhausted, she had rung for 
Annette, and told her to prepare a tepid bath, 
well sprinkled with mu de colog7ie. After a brisk 
rubbing, she had felt decidedly better, and had 
eaten her breakfast with some appetite. But she 
was still far from well, and she had declined to 
see any one who called, and spent most of the 
morning dozing on the lounge. At noon, how- 
ever, her dressmaker had begged so earnestly for 
a few moments’ speech with her, that Joseph, who 
knew from experience that Mrs. Thorne seldom 
denied herself to mademoiselle, had made the 
mistake of allowing her to go up stairs. But 
alas ! this person’s visit, although short, had left 
Mrs. Thorne in a more wretched state than be- 
fore. She had not come to fit on a new gown, or 
even to talk one over, with her fair customer. 
On the contrary, it was only that morning she 


252 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


had heard, for the first time, of Mr. Thorne’s 
failure, and she had lost no time in running 
around to find out whether she was going to lose 
the money which madam owed her. She soon 
discovered that it was probable she would, and 
she had thereupon given vent to a torrent of 
abuse, which had so frightened Mrs. Thorne that 
she went into a fit of hysterics on the spot. An- 
nette had come speedily to the rescue, and ordered 
Joseph to put the infuriated woman out of the 
house, which he did, but not until she had shaken 
her fist in Mrs. Thorne’s face, and vowed ven- 
geance upon her. Then the maid had adminis- 
tered an opiate, and left her to herself. Late in 
the afternoon she tiptoed softly in again, and, 
finding her mistress still calmly sleeping, started 
to go away again, when suddenly Mrs. Thorne 
awoke with a start. 

“What time is it ?” she asked. 

“Nearly six, madam,” replied the maid. “Are 
you better now ? and will you dress ?” 

“Yes. Is Mr. Thorne at home?” 

“No, madam, he leave word he will not be at 
home until late to-night.” 

“Very well. Then I’ll dine up stairs, as I 
don’t feel like going down, until I have to.” 

“Does madam expect company this evening ?” 
asked the girl, respectfully, as she dropped the 
window curtains, and lit the gas. 


A SOCIAL METJiOli. 


253 


“I don’t know. Some one may come. I’ll put 
on my black velvet, anyway, as I’m tired of lying 
around in this wrapper.” 

“That was a severe shock to madam’s nerves,” 
continued Annette, as she proceeded with Mrs. 
Thorne’s toilet. “Joseph say he had great 
trouble with mademoiselle in the hall ; she try to 
break something, and scream like she was mad.” 

“It was frightful,” responded Mrs. Thorne, 
with a shudder ; “I never saw such a demon in 
my life. I thought she was going to kill me, 
the way she flourished that umbrella. If you 
hadn’t come in just then, I don’t know what I 
should have done. The insolent beast! when 
I’ve paid her so many thousands of dollars. It 
makes my blood boil to think of the way she in- 
sulted me 1 How I would like to be able to pay 
her back I Did you hear her say that she wished 
I’d die a pauper? Just wait until I get the op- 
portunity (if I ever do) to get even with her, and 
see how quickly I’ll take advantage of it.” 

“But madam would not lower herself so much, 
and she must recollect, too, that mademoiselle 
had some reason to be angry,” interposed An- 
nette, soothingly. 

“Yes, I would,” retorted her mistress, hotly, 
“I’d order half a dozen expensive dresses from 
her establishment, and when they were finished 
and sent home, I’d return them to her with a 


254 


A SOCIAL METEOR 


curt note saying that they weren’t satisfactory. 
Wouldn’t she dance?” And she laughed a little 
at the thought. 

“But madam,” expostulated Annette. 

“Madam would like nothing better,” returned 
Mrs. Thorne, mimicking the girl’s horrified tone 
“The only pathetic part of it is, that she’s not 
likely to get the chance, for some time yet, at 
any fate.” 

When dinner was ready her spirits seemed to 
revive. She laughed and joked with Annette, 
who waited upon her, and even went so far as to 
insist upon her joining her, at dessert, saying 
that she hated to dine alone. She ate but little, 
and smoked Turkish cigarettes until the room 
was almost uninhabitable. 

The door-bell rang twice before nine o’clock, 
and each time she started up with a little nervous 
exclamation. Once it was a boy with a bundle, 
and the second time a note for Mr. Thorne. 

At a quarter past nine it rang again, and this 
time Joseph appeared with Lee’s card on a tray. 
Her heart gave a joyful bound, and she executed 
a little pas seul in front of the mirror, as the man 
turned his bacjc. But she recovered her dignity 
again, directly, and ran to the bureau to take a 
final look at herself before going down stairs. 

It was only then that she began to realize 
what a strain she had been under for the past 


A SOCIAZ METEOR 


255 


few days ; How anxiously sHe had looked 
. forward to this visit. The note she had 
received from him in answer to the crushing one 
which she had sent, had been short and concise, 
merely saying he would “call on Thursday night, 
if possible.” She had awaited him in fear and 
trembling, conjecturing what he would do in the 
interim ; whether he would fly at once to Georgie, 
and demand an explanation, or sit at home and 
brood over his heartless dismissal. Knowing 
his proud nature, she had thought the latter 
course the more probable, and upon that she had 
pinned her hope. But what if he had gone to 
Georgie, and discovering the treachery which 
had been practiced upon him, had come now to 
confront her with his proofs? This thought 
gave her a momentary return of nervousness, 
but she smothered it and summoning a smile to 
her lips, she went to meet him. 

Her first glance at him told her that she had 
nothing to fear ; that he had no suspicion what- 
ever, and her confidence rapidly returned. His 
face was white and haggard ; it was evident that 
he had come to seek comfort, not to accuse. So 
she boldly pursued the course she had marked 
out for herself. 

“Ihn so glad to see you,” she murmured, “I 
didn’t know but what you had deserted me. It 
seems an age since — since I left New York.” 


S56 


A SOCIAL MMTEOli. 


“Yes,” he replied, “I would have come before, 
only I’ve been unusually busy. Sooner or later, 
thongh,” he continued with a short, hard laugh, 
“I was bound to turn np.” 

“I want to tell you how much, how e/^/jmuch,” 
she began, modestly dropping her eyes, “I 'regret 
my indiscretion that night ; I can never forgive 
myself, never. But I do hope you will try and 
forget it, and ” 

“Pray don’t mention it my dear girl,” inter- 
rupted Lee, “we were all in for a good time, you 
know.” Then, as if anxious to change the topic 
of conversation, he went on : “I can’t begin to 
tell yon how shocked and grieved I was to hear 
of Charlie’s bad luck. It was so unexpected, so 
sudden. I never was more dumfounded in my 
life.” 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Thorne, sighing, “it was a 
terrible blow — especially to me, who never 
dreamed but that his affairs were in a prosperous 
condition. I had no suspicion that anything was 
wrong, nntil that night when he called me into 
the library and told me, in the most brutal fashion, 
that we were beggars, or nearly so. Can you 
imagine my feelings ? I cried all night ; I 
couldn’t help it. The thought of leaving this 
house where I’ve spent so many happy hours, 
and the world where I’ve been such a power, 
nearly broke my heart, at first.” And she 


A SOCIAL METEOli. 


257 


choked down a sob that rose in her throat. 
‘^But now I do not feel so badly about it, IVe 
tried very hard to get used to the idea of giving it 
all up,’’ she continued, with a sad little smile, 
“and I really think I’ve become quite brave.” 

“Poor little woman,” said Lee, feelingly, “in- 
deed you are brave. To tell the truth, I had half 
expected to find you in tears to-night ; you cer- 
tainly bear your misfortune like a heroine. But 
have patience ; Charley will come out all right in 
the end — he’s not the first man who has made a 
mistake, and he’s young yet. I sent him a note 
to-night saying that he could draw on me for any 
amount he chose until he’s on his feet again.” 

“Really, Lee, you are too good,” uttered Mrs. 
Thome, warmly, “and no one but you would sug- 
gest such a thing. But at the same time, I trust, 
I believe^ he is man enough to refuse your offer. 
His liabilities are enormous, and he would leave 
you pretty well crippled if he took advantage of 
your kindness. No, he has brought himself to 
this strait by his greed, and now let him extricate 
himself as well as he can.” 

“But 3^ou — you should not be made to suffer for 
his folly.” 

“Oh, I shall get along well enough, I suppose. 
It isn’t a pleasant prospect I have before me, to 
be sure ; but still I’ve had such a long day that I 
mustn’t complain. If he were only a little more 


258 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


sympathetic, though, I don’t think I would mind 
it so much. But you know what he is ; he has no 
more soul than a block of granite, and I dread to 
think what my future life may be with him. How 
thankful I should be if I could go away alone, and 
never see him again ! But I can’t do that ; he’s 
my husband, and my proper place is at his side. 
People would have a right to scorn me if I de- 
serted him now. No, I must stay and try to do 
my duty by him, even though he has failed some- 
times in his to me.” 

“Upon my word, Ray, you surprise me,” ex- 
claimed Lee, admiringly. “I didn’t think you 
had so much pluck. On my honor, I didn’t. 
Well, misfortune shows what we are made of. 
But listen : You know perfectly well that Char- 
ley will come up again before long, he’s such a 
lucky dog, and then you’ll be all right. But in 
the meantime, why don’t you let me help him a 
little? It’s only a loan, you understand, and I 
can easily spare him all he needs.” 

She shook her head decidedly. 

“No,” she replied, “I’d never forgive him if he 
accepted aid from you, of all men ; so please don’t 
suggest such a thing to me. I only wish you 
hadn’t written to him.” 

“Perhaps he hasn’t received my letter yet,” 
said Lee. “I didn’t send it until eight o’clock. 
I wrote it at the club just after dinner.” 


A SOCIAL MLTLOR 


259 


“Did you direct it here 

‘"‘Yes.’^ 

“Then he hasn’t seen it yet, for he hasn’t 
been home since morning. Thank heaven ! 
Will you give me permission to destroy it ?” 

“Certainly, as you feel so strongly about it. 
Of course, I don’t wish to force my services upon 
you.” 

“I’m ever so much obliged. And now remem- 
ber, please, Lee, that I appreciate your kindness 
more than I can tell you, only ” 

“I understand. But there’s one favor I wish 
you would grant me.” 

“Anything, mou cher^ what is it?” asked Ray, 
more brightly. 

“Well, as you say, I know how close Charley 
is by nature, and it’s only reasonable to expect 
that he won’t be any more generous with you in 
the immediate future, isn’t it ? ” 

“I’m afraid it is,” answered Ray, dolorously. 

“Then,” proceeded Lee quickly, “you will let 
me make you a little loan, will you now? You 
can pay it back you know, when you are able, if 
you must but I really wish you’d do this for me. 
You can account for it to your husband in any 
way you think best, or don’t account for it at all. 
You have always been more than kind to me, 
and I should hate to think of your longing for 
any of those little luxuries women prize so 


260 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


highly, and to which you are so accustomed. 
If I had any respect for Charley, I would never 
think of making yon such a proposition, but I 
haven’t; I consider him a lout and a cad who is 
not fit to be married to a decent woman. So you 
won’t refuse me ?” 

She shook her head again, this time with a 
mournful smile. 

“I must, she murmured, “but nevertheless, I 
will acknowledge that your offer is a great tempta- 
tion to me. Please,” pleadingly, “if you have 
any regard for me, sa}^ nothing more on this 
subject. It pains .me to say no to you when 
you’re so good, and yet I cannot say yes. 
Besides, she continued, in a low voice, “you must 
recollect that there is another whose wishes 
ought to be consulted in matters of this kind.” 

He turned his head away and a sort of spasm 
seemed to run through his huge, powerful frame. 
When he spoke again his lips were quivering. 

“There is no one whose wishes I have any 
reason to consult,” he said in a husky voice. 

Ray opened her eyes as if in astonishment. 

' “And Georgie ? ” she uttered, inquiringly. 

“It is all over between us.” 

“Why, Lee ” 

“Yes, he went on rapidly, “the letter you sent 
me from her, contained my conge — nothing more 
or less.” 


A SOCIAL ME2E0R. 


261 


“But what reason did she give 

“None ; you may read the note yourself. I 
brought it to show you.” And with hands that 
trembled, he took it from his wallet and handed 
it to her. 

She read it calmly, placidly, without betraying 
herself by so much as the quiver of an eyelid, 
although she was possessed with a frantic desire 
to laugh aloud. 

“My poor Lee!” she simply said when she 
had finished. 


262 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

‘‘why write such a note?’’ 

Man-lifee, seeing that his companion’s eyes 
were fixed upon him with tender sympath}^, he 
hastened to unburden himself to her without 
reserve. 

I have always noticed this difference between 
men and women: that the latter, when they have 
been badly treated, will almost always seek to 
hide their wounds, especially from their inmates, 
while the former, who are naturally supposed to 
have so much better control of themselves, will, 
under the same circumstances, in nine cases out 
of ten, run to unbosom themselves to their “best 
friends,” even to the extent of becoming a bore. 
However, I will give this credit to the sterner sex, 
they seldom give a wrong coloring to their stories, 
and usually tell things as they really happen ; 
while women 

But I am digressing. 

“What can be the matter with her?” he ex- 
claimed in a ringing tone ; “what is the reason of 
this sudden change in her feelings toward me ? 
To think of her kicking me off in this way, 
without a word of explanation ! When I first got 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


263 


this note, I thought I would take the next train 

to R and ask her what it meant, but on a 

little reflection, I decided that it was beneath me 
to go where I was particularly requested not to, 
and then, too, she might refuse to see me. So I 
staid at home. Ray^ why did she write me 
such a note ? Do you know ?” 

“Indeed, I don’t, Lee,” she responded, with a 
puzzled air. “I am utterly bewildered at your 
news. She was as pleasant and as cheerful the 
day we parted, as I have ever seen her. She 
came to my room to kiss me good-by just after 
lunch, and said, “here is a note which I wish 
you would give Lee as soon as you get home. It 
will reach him sooner than if I sent it by post.” 
Of course I thought it was just a little love 
letter, or something of the sort, but I never 
dreamed it was anything like this. How could 
she be so cruel, and above all so foolish as to 
throw you over so ? Oh, well, I wouldn’t mourn 
over her if I were you — she doesn’t deserve it. 
Any woman who would do as she has done, isn’t 
worth a pinch of salt. Of course I’m surprised, 
yes, amazed that she should have treated you so, 
and yet I half expected she would toss you oif 
in the end. You know this Jack ” 

“Why, do you think he has anything to do 
with it?” Lee broke in anxiously. “You your- 


264 


A ^SOCIAL MATAVJi, 


self assured me that she no longer cared any- 
thing about him.’’ 

“So she swore to me. But, you see, when she 
saw him again, the old influence made itself felt, 
I suppose, and no doubt she yielded to it. Georgie 
is a strange girl anyway ; she’s been a continual 
surprise to me, and I fancy she is to herself. 
To be frank with you, Lee, as I told you before, 
I don’t think she ever loved you properly. In 
New York she always had people running in 
and out, or else she was off herself, and I have 
good reason to suspect,” dropping her voice to 
almost a whisper, “though of course I wouldn’t 
dare to say so, to any one but you, that she used 
to meet Jack somewhere.” 

Lee’s face worked with his emotion. 

“Then I’ve been taken in like a fifteen-year- 
old schoolboy, haven’t I ?” he exclaimed, harshly, 
“to amuse her. What a woman she is! One 
can hardly help admiring her sublime audacity.” 

“You are rich and of importance,” observed 
Ray, insinuatingly. 

“And she wanted to make use of my money 
and position, no doubt, while she continued to 
meet this fellow in secret. “What an ass I’ve 
beeni I might have known how this would turn 
out from the beginning. I can understand very 
readily that his presence might affect her, 
always, to a certain extent, but that she could 


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265 


deliberately throw me over and go back to him, 
after promising herself to me, I cannot under- 
stand. Ah, well, live and learn.” 

Ray laid her cool soft fingers upon his wrist. 

“Let her go,” she urged, “after a while you’ll 
forget her and life will once more be pleasant to 
you, and the sooner you put her out of your 
mind, the better it will be for you. Let her have 
Jack, and marry him if she likes. As for me, I 
will never speak to her again — I couldn’t, after 
her heartlessness to you. Then, when we are 
settled in our humble new home, you will come 
and see us occasionally, will you not?” 

He recovered himself, with an effort, and took 
both her hands in his. 

“Come to see you ?” he repeated. “Of course 
I will, and will be only too glad of the oppor- 
tunity, God bless you ! Let me say right here, 
though, before we drop the subject forever, if 
another girl, no matter if she be even as attract- 
ive as Helen herself, causes me the loss of an 
hour’s sleep, I will give up all my worldly pos- 
sessions the following day, and become an out- 
cast. I’ve done with love and all thoughts of 
matrimony. I wouldn’t undergo such suffering 
as I have gone through the past few days, for any 
consideration. I feel ten years older.” 

She pressed his hands warmly, in reply. 

“And xiow,” he resumed, looking earnestly 


266 


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down into her face, “ 3 ^ou will gratify me about 
this money, will you not ? I really wish you 
would ; the knowledge that I am doing something 
to make somebody else a little less miserable, 
may help me forget my own unhappiness, 
perhaps.” 

Ray returned his glance with a long, grateful 
one. 

^''Nous verro7tSy'^ she replied, lightly. 

Late the next afternoon, Mrs. Thorne appeared 
at Lee Grant’s private office. She was plainly 
dressed in gray, with a heavy vail drawn across 
her face, and she had come on foot every step 
of the way. She started timidly at her own 
footfalls, as she passed quickly down the silent, 
dimly lighted hall, and her heart beat so wildly 
when she reached the door, that her limbs nearly 
gave way from under her. She w^as about to 
play her last card, and what if she should lose, 
after all ? She was trembling so that she could 
scarcely knock, and glad enough she was that 
John (Mr. Grant’s man) delayed two or three 
minutes before opening to her. He did not 
recognize her, and looked at her rather doubt- 
fully. But when she gave her name he v/as pro- 
fuse in his apologies, 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


267 


“Beg pardon mum, beg pardon, I’m sure,” he ' 
exclaimed, as he ushered her in ; “you see it’s 
alius that dark out here this time o’day, I often 
make mistakes, and then your vail — but step 
right in mum, and I’ll call Mr. Grant ; he’s busy 
packin’ inside. I’ll run and tell him you’re 
here.” 

“Packing?” she repeated, in dismay. 

“Yis, mum,” you know he’s goin’ away Satur- 
day. It’s quite sudden like. Indade, it’s only 
this morning that he tould me a word about it.” 

“Where is he going ?” 

“To Europe, it is, mum,” replied John, wonder- 
ing at her agitated manner. 

Mrs. Thorne waited to hear no more. Scarcely 
knowing what she did, she pushed past him and 
soon found herself in a sort of writing-room 
actually littered with books, fishing tackle, and 
guns, in the midst of which sat Lee examining 
the trigger of a large revolver. He looked up 
as she entered, and flushed a little, as if with an- 
noyance. 

“Why, Ray, you here ? But I hope you’ll 
excuse the condition of affairs just at present,” 
he said, disencumbering a chair and pushing it 
toward her. “I’m rather upset, as you see, but 
the fact is, I’m going away.” 

“So I hear,” she answered, without noticing 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


the proffered seat, “John told me so just now. 
He says you’re going to Europe.” 

“Yes, I’m going on Saturday.” 

“Isn’t this rather sudden ? You said nothing 
about it, yesterday.” 

“I did not make up my mind to go until last 
evening. I met Billy Waldron at dinner, and 
after talking a little with him, decided suddenly 
to follow him. You know he sailed to-day.” 

“And when are you coming back ?” 

“I don’t know; I’m thinking something of 
taking in India while I’m about it, for the shoot- 
ing. I’ll send you the first tiger skin I capture. 
All despairing lovers say that nowadays.” 

She did not answer; she scarcely heard the 
last two sentences ; she felt as if the ground was 
slipping from under her feet. 

He picked up another revolver and looked it 
over carefully before placing it in its case. 

“Truth is, Ray,” he began again, hesitatingly, 
“I’m so broken up about the way she behaved 
toward me, that I think a change will do me 
good. I cannot dear to stay here and see her 
married to another fellow, just yet. I can neither 
eat nor sleep, and am not myself at all, so I’m 
going away, and when I come back it will all 
be over and too late to mourn.” 

She was trembling from head to foot, and her 
eyes were smimming in tears, but he did not ob- 


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serve it. Suddenly slie threw out her arms with 
a gesture of despair, and cried. 

“Take me with you, Tee! I cannot stay here!” 

“I would be glad to do so if it were possible,” 
he replied, kindly. 

“It zs possible, Lee,” she went on excitedly, 
“this afternoon my husband put me out of the 
house.” 

“Put you out of the house ?” he repeated, me- 
chanically. “I don’t understand.” 

“Yes, he turned me out of the house, but not 
until he had struck me.” 

Lee dropped the revolver. 

“And in heaven’s name what made him do it ? 
the confounded brute !” he exclaimed. 

“We were having a dispute just after luncheon 
about our expenses, and I think he felt he was 
getting rather the worst of it, so, like the coward 
that he is, he flew into a passion — and his temper 
is simply awful when it gets the best of him — 
and swore at me. Of course I resented this and 
called him a tyrant. Then he turned and 
struck me on the cheek. Look,” raising her vail 
and showing an ugly red mark. 

“The infernal hound!” cried Lee, “he deserves 
to have his head knocked off.” 

“After that he pointed to the door, and told me 
to go and never come back. So what could I do ? 
I took him at his word, and came to you, for. 


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knowing how I sympathized with you in your 
trouble, I did not see how you could turn a deaf 
ear to me. And now,’’ plaintively, “you are 
going away, and I do not know what to do. 
Mamma cannot take care of me, she has barely 
enough to support herself upon, and she would 
try to make me return to him. But I cannot, I 
cannot — I will never put my foot inside of his 
door again,” and she burst into tears. 

“Surely something can be done about it,” 
asserted Lee, “you would have no difficulty in 
obtaining a divorce.” 

“I have no money,” she rejoined, tearfully, 
•“and besides, I don’t want my name dragged 
through the courts. I only want to go away out 
of all this misery. Oh, Lee,” clasping her 
hands, and looking at him imploringly, “if you 
have any pity, take me with you. 

“That is out of the question,” he uttered, 
promptly. “Think of the consequences ; think 
how your name would be tossed about. It would 
be a thousand times worse than a divorce. Charley 
is the one who would be sympathized with, then, 
and I would be pointed out as a scoundrel.” 

“We need never come back to this country.” 

“My dear girl, you don’t know what you are 
talking about,” said Lee, impatiently. “If I 
were to let you come with me, I would never dare 
to look any of my fellow-countrymen in the face 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


271 


again. You are excited and don’t know what 
you are saying.” 

Ray bit her lips until the blood almost came, 

“I never was more collected in my life,” she 
remarked calmly, “and I fully appreciate what I 
am saying. I am asking you to take me away 
where I will have peace and quiet, to any place 
you are going, even if it’s to the jungles of India. 
You will not regret it, Lee, I promise you. I am 
no child that I do not understand the meaning 
of what I ask. Let me go with you and I will 
be as true and faithful as a dog. Leave me 
behind, and I will not answer for myself. If 
yo2ir life is ruined, what is mine ?” 

He made no reply. 

“As for you,” she continued, “why should you 
care what people may say ? Have you not had a 
sorrow which drives you away out of the reach of 
the gossips ? And what is your trouble, compared 
with mine ? Homeless, friendless, poor — how can 
I face this merciless world ? Have pity on me, 
Lee, and take me with you.” 

He folded his arms and lowered his eyes. 

“If money would aid you, I would give you half 
I possess,” he remarked, slowly. 

“Money?” retorted Ray, scornfulty, “good 
heavens ! all you men think of is the dollar ; you 
seem to believe that woman can go into a store 
and purchase happiness by the pound. No ; what 


272 


A SOCIAL MKTEOH. 


I want is sympathy, companionship, and some 
one to protect me. This is what I ask of you, and 
you will not, yon cannot refuse me. I will be no 
trouble to you.’’ 

She had laid her hand on his arm while speak- 
ing, and was looking up in his face with her very 
soul in her eyes. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he muttered, in a 
bewildered way, as if speaking to himself I ” 

“You will never have reason to regret it,” she 
murmured ; “I shall never reproach you, what- 
ever happens. If you tire of me I will leave you, 
but all my life I will bless you for your goodness 
to me.” 

“My goodness,” he echoed, with a short laugh, 
“it could hardly be called that, I think.” 

“You will take me?” she pursued, breathlessly. 

“Listen,” he said, after a pause. “I do not say 
no to you. I suppose I ought to, but I feel so 
reckless, so indiiferent to everything just now, 
that I don’t much care what happens ; so you see 
you have attacked me at the right moment. If 
you insist upon accompanying me, you may do 
so, and we will take our chances together. The 
steamer sails at noon, you know, so be there on 
time with your luggage. If you change your 
mind between now and Saturday, send a note 
down instead, and it will be all the same.” 

She seized his hand and covered it with kisses. 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


273 


“Heaven bless you !” she cried, and a moment 
later she was gone. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

LEE AND RAY IN NAPLES. 

It was late afternoon in Naples. The sun, 
slowly sinking in the west, touched with linger- 
ing tenderness the snowy mountain peaks and 
the bright blue waters of the bay, as though loth 
to leave so lovely a spot. 

The city, with its white buildings stretched in 
long curved lines along the shore, one above the 
other, formed a rest for the eye wearied with gaz- 
ing upon the beauties of nature displayed on every 
side. Monasteries and houses, separated from 
each other by a succession of finely kept gardens 
and vineyards, looked down from their proud ele- 
vations upon the matchless panorama spread out 
beneath them. While above all Vesuvius, with 
its crown of living flame, glowed with a faint, 
yellowish light, as the rays of the departing sun 
fell upon it. 


274 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


A lady was reclining on a low cliair on the bal- 
cony of one of the most charming villas just out- 
side of the city. Her bright hair rippled over her 
head in perfect harmony with the lilac gown with 
its front of priceless lace which she wore. Her 
waist was encircled by a broad antique girdle 
studded with jewels, and a heavy bracelet of simi- 
lar design clasped one fair round arm. 

She was ostensibly occupied with a book, the 
latest American novel, but every few minutes she 
put it down to share a bon-bon with the little dog 
lying in her lap. Occasionally she walked to the 
edge of the balcony, and shading her eyes with 
her hand looked out over the water, not anxiously, 
but as though she were expecting some one. Then 
she would turn and gaze in another direction, 
down along the path below, gently winding itself 
in and out around the verdure-covered rocks until 
it was hidden from sight by a neighboring orange 
grove. 

She was dimpled and rosy, with a forehead as 
unwrinkled as a child’s. 

Presently a footman, bearing a tray upon which 
were several letters, appeared at one of the long 
open windows. She took them and looked them 
carefully over. Finding two addressed to herself 
she sat down once more to read them, placing the 
others on a table at her elbow. Both bore Amer- 
ican postmarks, and were in feminine handwriting. 


A 6’OCIAL METEOR. 


275 


“This is from mamma,” she murmured, break- 
ing the seal of one of them. “I wonder if it will 
be any more amiable than her last ? It begins a 
little more affectionately. Poor mamma, she is 
breaking her heart because my social triumphs 
are at an end.” She glanced hastily through it, 
and was about to take up the second one when a 
sound on the gravel below attracted her attention. 
A man on a large English horse was riding 
slowly up the road. She pulled the- bell rope, 
and after ordering the servant to tell his master 
where he would find her, she took up her letter 
again. As she neared the end of the second page 
her face suddenly blanched, and a low exclama- 
tion broke from her. But she recovered herself 
immediately and smilingly held out her hand to 
the tall, bronzed man who had joined her a few 
moments later. 

He looked very handsome as he sat there on 
the balustrade, with the light of the dying day 
falling softly on his face and head with its thick 
brown hair. The dark corduroy j acket he wore 
was extremely becoming to him, and she thought, 
with a throb of satisfaction, what a splendid, big, 
manly fellow he was. 

“What kept you so long?” she asked. “I was 
beginning to be w’orried. I thought you might 
have gone sailing in that abominable little boat 


276 


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of yours again, or else that ‘Monseigneur’ had 
been up to his old tricks.” 

“Oh, no, I haven’t been on the water to-day, 
and I imagine that new bit has taught ‘Seignie’ 
a lesson or two,” he answered. “He’s as quiet as 
a lamb. I’m later than usual because I met 
those two Scotchmen we ran across so many 
times in Paris, McDonald and Graham ; you re- 
member them, don’t you ? They are traveling 
with their wives and are ‘doing’ Italy. They say 
they detest guides, and get along without them 
whenever they can, so they asked me what there 
was to see in Naples. ‘Vesuvius,’ said I. ‘What 
else?’ asked McDonald. ‘The Museum.’ ‘What 
then ?’ inquired Graham. ‘The Bay,’ I answered. 
‘But have you no churches, no picture-galleries 
to go through ?’ they asked in a breath. I told 
them no, thank Heaven we hadn’t, but that the 
fishing was excellent. They seemed quite dis- 
gusted, and said they hardly thought it paid to 
stop here. But they wanted to go through the 
Museum, and insisted upon my accompanying 
them. So I went. And now they are anxious 
to have us join them on an excursion to Pompeii, 
some day this week. Vv’^hat do you say, shall we 
go? They’re rather nice, you know.” 

“If you like ; I suppose I can stand seeing it 
again, although I am getting rather sick of it.” 


A SOCIAL MElEOli. 


277 


^‘So am I. In fact, I think I’m getting sick of 
all this part of the country.” 

“Already? Why, how restless you are, Lee! 
We haven’t been settled a month yet, and now 
you want to leave.” 

“Don’t you find it monotonous?” 

“No, indeed. I think it’s the most delightful 
spot on earth to live in, and look at ’ the scenery. 
What could be finer?” 

“One wearies of scenery after a while. I’m 
beginning to long to get where my own language 
is spohen, and to leave these noisy Italians who 
talk with their hands and feet, as well as their 
tongues.” 

“But when we were in London you said you 
wanted to go where you could have perfect rest, 
and not hear the incessant chatter of Americans 
and English people. Don’t you remember the 
time you pretended you were deaf, so as not to 
be bored with that fussy little Dr. Rush, in 
Liverpool ?” 

Lee flicked his boot with his riding-whip, and 
did not answer, except by a nod. 

“And we’re so comfortable here, too,” she pur- 
sued, “the servants are so satisfactory, and the 
house I’m sure, is simply perfect.” 

“Well, Ray, if you’re satisfied, I suppose it’s 
unkind of me to want to take you away. No 
doubt I’m one of those unhappy mortals who 


278 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


would find fault with paradise, and after all, 
perhaps I’m better off here than anywhere, if it 
zs a little dull. We’ll stay then.” 

“Not if you wish to leave, Lee,” returned Ray. 
“Speak the word, and we’ll be off to-morrow.” 

“No, we’ll wait a little longer, and go to Paris 
or Vienna, later on, where you can get some 
clothes, for I don’t suppose you can find anything 
here to suit you. Apropos, I bought that fan 
you wanted, to-day. I gave it to Annette.” 

“How good you are !” 

“Nonsense, if I can only give you a little 
pleasure to compensate, in part.” 

His voice sank almost to a whisper, and a look 
of care came into his eyes. She went over to 
him and laid her arms around his neck. 

“Pleasure?” she repeated tenderly, “why Lee 
I never imagined, even in my wildest moments, 
that I could know such happiness as I have 
experienced during the last few months. It has 
been like one long delicious dream. Every night 
when I go to bed, I pray that it may last, and 
that I may not awake with a start and find my- 
self back ^/tere again. Sometimes when I stand 
out here alone in the moonlight and see all 
around me so bright and unreal, I cry for very 
joy. If I have given you a tenth part of the 
happiness that you have given me, I am content.” 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


279 


Twilight was fast approaching, and the water 
was now of a dark purplish hue. The mountains 
reflecting the last tints of the fading light, stood 
boldly out against the darkening evening sky. 

Lee took the little face, nestling so close to 
him, between his palms, and kissed it reverently. 

“YouVe been a blessing and a great comfort to 
me, Ray,” he said, “and I don’t know what I 
should have done without you. Often when I’ve 
been quick and impatient with you, you have 
been like an angel. But you understand me, do 
you not ?” 

“Yes,” she answered softly. 

“I try to be even with you, upon my honor I 
do, Ray, but like all men, I have my morose 
moments, when I feel as if I couldn’t speak a 
civil word to any one, as if I just wanted to be 
left alone to think. And you, poor little woman, 
generally get the full benefit of my bad temper.” 

“I told you I would never complain.” 

“And you’ve kept your word.” 

“Because I’m constantly thinking of you,” she 
continued, and wondering what I can do to please 
you. When you are away from me, even for the 
afternoon, as you v/ere to-day, I try to follow you 
all the time with my thoughts, and I count the 
hours until you are back. Lee,” in a still lower 
tone, “do you care for me, soP^ 

He was silent a moment, then he answered : 


280 


A iSOCIAL METEOR, 


“It was understood that there was to be no men- 
tion of love between us.” 

“I know, but I’m so happy that I cannot help 
asking if you are too. Let me put the question 
in a different way. Have you quite forgotten 
her?” 

“Why do you bring up these subjects, Ray, 
when you know how I dislike to talk on them ? 
We are both contented now, so don’t let us refer 
to anything which is likely to make discord 
between us. You are sweet and kind to me, and 
I don’t ask an3^thing more. I try to live only in 
the present. The past was a failure, and the 
future — well, I never think of that.” 

“You would not change anything if you could ?” 
she pursued. 

“No!” he replied, almost harshly. He had 
half turned from her and his eyes were fixed 
upon the distant crater which vras growing 
brighter steadily. She disengaged herself from 
him and went back to her chair. 

For a minute or two there was a silence between 
them, broken only by the low sobbing of the 
water on the shore. 

“Come here, dear.” 

It was Ray who spoke, and she motioned him 
to a seat at her feet. 

“There is something I want to tell you,” she 
went on, “and which I have been trying to tell 


A SOCIAL MLTFOR 


281 


you for weeks, but I haven’t had the courage, 
until to-night. It’s very hard for me, but my 
mind will never be at rest until I do. Besides, 
it’s your right to know it.” 

“Yes?” He said this quietly, as though he 
had little interest in what she was saying. 

She seemed to struggle with herself for a 
moment, and then resumed : 

“You know that note I sent you from Georgie, 
the one I told you she gave me in New York ” 

He sprang to his feet impatiently. 

“Why will you keep bringing that up ?” he 
cried. 

“Because,” she answered steadily, she “never 
sent it to you.” 

“She never sent it to me ?” he repeated in a 
dazed fashion. 

“No, she sent it to 

“Explain yourself.” 

“I will, if you’ll give me a chance. Sit down 
please, and listen to what I have to say, if you 
don’t you may never hear it, as I’m not often in 
a repentant mood. Perhaps I’m making a fool 
of myself now, but I’m going on at any rate, for 
the sake of my own conscience. Of course you 
remember how foolishly I behaved at the dinner 
that night at Mount St. Vincent, and how the 
absinthe affected my light, unaccustomed head ? 
No need of dwelling on that, is there ? Well, it 


282 


A SOCIAL METEOli, 


seems my indiscretion disgusted your matter-of- 
fact little fiancee, for the next morning, bright 
and early, she took her departure, sans mot 
leaving me only a scrubby little note. So I, 
having nothing else to do, followed suit and 
returned to Philadelphia.’’ 

“Well?” 

“As soon as I got home, I was summoned to 
the library by my husband, and informed of his 
recent failure. Pleasant welcome, wasn’t it? 
This was a little too much for my equilibrium, 
coming as it did, right on top of the other, so in 
spite of myself I had to give way to my feelings 
(up stairs though), which were a mixture of wrath 
against the world in general, and pure, unalloyed 
sorrow, for myself. As for Georgie, I felt that I 
hated her with all my might.” 

“I can’t see how this concerns me.” 

“Have a little patience and you’ll see that it 
does concern you. As I say, I went to my room, 
where nobody’s eyes excepting Annette’s could 
pry upon my moanings and groanings, and she 
didn’t count. By the way, you don’t know what 
a treasure that girl is ? I really think she’s a 
mascot, or else an imp in disguise. The devil 
usually does assume the female form when he ap- 
pears on earth, doesn’t ke ?” 

“What has Annette to do witli your story?” 


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283 


“Very much., You recollect I said she was the 
only witness of my grief that unlucky day — ex- 
cepting Bijou, of course,’^ bending over to kiss the 
top of the little animal’s, silky head. “She was 
unpacking my trunk and putting my clothes 
away. After awhile she came to me with a letter 
she had found in one of the trays and asked me if 
I wanted it. I looked at it and found it was the 
one Georgie had left on my cushion. I had tossed 
it into my bureau drawer that morning. I read 
it over again, and suddenly the idea occurred to 
me now I might use it to advantage. 


284 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


CHAPTER XX. 

“you shall never see me again.” 

“That’s the reason why I say I believe Annette 
is an agent of his Satanic Majesty. If she hadn’t 
given me the letter, such a wicked idea v/ould 
never had entered my innocent little pate. The 
thought which came to me was this : ‘Why not 
send this letter to Lee? it is as applicable to his 
case as to mine, and will help me wonderfully in 
future, if it doesn’t ruin me.’ I knew the risk 
was a great one, but I had so little to lose and so 
much to gain that I decided to take it. So it went 
to you in proper shape, as you know. I was aw- 
fully frightened at first, and did feel a little badly 
on your account. I hated to make you suffer, but 
I had no pity for her ; she had treated me pig- 
gishly, and I was glad to get the opportunity of 
returning the compliment. Besides, I argued to 
m3^self, she is rich, young, and has life before her, 
while I felt that my day was about over. She had 
ever^^thing, and undoubtedly was still fond of 
Jack. I had nothing, and begrudged her only 
you. You know how well my plan succeeded — 
beyond my fondest hopes. Everything ended 
satisfactorily, and here we are to-day.” 


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285 


While she was talking a change had come over 
Lee’s face. He had grown deadly white, and his 
eyes were scintillating dangerously. Now he 
took a step toward her and clutched her wrists in 
his hands. 

“You dared to do this !” he hissed. 

“I dared to do anything then,” she declared, 
coolly. “All is Tair in love and war,’ you must 
bear in mind, and I was in desperate distress. 
What’s the difference ? We are both all right 
now, aren’t we ? And avowedly happy.” 

“Wretch ! fiend ! do you suppose I shall stay 
with you after this ?” 

“And why not ?” 

“I loathe and despise you !” 

“A moment ago you declared you couldn’t get 
along without me. Ah, my dear fellow, you 
mustn’t be so hard on me. What I did was 
wrong, undoubtedly very wrong ; I have confessed 
it, but after all it was natural. Loads of women 
situated as I was would have acted as I did, on the 
impulse of the moment, if they had the courage.” 

“Not unless they were as black-hearted as you 
are,” he returned harshly. “Listen: you just 
asked me if I loved you. I will tell you now — no, 
I do not love you, and never did. She was the 
only woman I ever loved, and ever can love.” 

“Indeed ? You came with me, like a little lamb, 
nevertheless,” retorted Ra}^ 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


m 

‘‘I must have been mad when I listened to yon, 
and anyway God knows I believed — oh, heaven I 
how could yon be so false ?” 

“Pray don’t let ns have any private theatricals, 
ni 07 i cher! The way you’re glaring at me posi- 
tively frightens me ; I’m afraid yon may throw 
me off the balcony. Cool down, and pull yourself 
together.” 

A silence fell between them. 

“Of course, after this you understand we must 
part,” said he, at last, in a voice so changed that 
she looked up, startled. 

“So yon suggested; but why? I should not 
suppose your tender conscience would admit of 
your doing me such an injustice. Besides, where 
should I go ? I cannot go back to my husband, 
as mamma tells me he is reduced to a mere eating 
and drinking machine and is constantly at the 
race-track, betting every cent he can scrape to- 
gether. Besides, he seems perfectly contented 
without me, and even jokes about my disappear- 
ance, when he’s had a glass too much. And you 
— what country are you thinking of exploring, 
mon mqniet ? You surely would not return to 
America, would you?” 

He nodded. 

' “And run the risk of Charley’s shooting you?” 

“I’ve no fear of him, and I must and shall see 
her.” 


A SOCIAL METEOti. 


“ ‘Must is for the king, and shall is for the 
queen/ ” quoted Ray, lightly. “And to tell you 
the truth, I don’t believe your trip would be very 
satisfactory.” 

“At least I shall have the satisfaction of an ex- 
planation.” 

“And expose me ? Really, Lee, that would be 
most ungrateful of you, and I know you will not 
do it.” 

“I shall leave here to-morrow morning.” 

“So soon ? Sapristi! And I have enjoyed 
your society so much. But I suppose all happi- 
ness must have an end sometime, or it would be- 
come ennui. However, I don’t think you will be 
in such hot haste when you’ve seen this letter 
from Grace Burton. She’s been in London for 
three months, and thinks I am traveling for my 
health with Annette.” 

He snatched it from her fiercely, and went to 
the window with it. The lamps' inside were burn- 
ing, and a flood of light came through the cur- 
tains. 

This is what he read : 

“Just after you went away Georgie Wheatley 
was taken very ill with brain fever. For weeks 
she lay between life and death, but at last she be- 
gan to get better. She convalesced rapidly, and 
even went around the house a little. One day, 
however, just when everybody thought she was 
almost well enough to get out, she had a relapse. 


288 


A SOCIAL METEOH. 


They called in four doctors, I hear, who simply 
devoted themselves to her ; but they could do very 
little. She regained her strength so slowly that 
Mrs. Clarke almost died of despair, and worse 
than all, as her body improved, they discovered 
that her mind was gone and they could give no 
hope of its recovery. They say that her principle 
hallucination is that Peter Persuade is married 
and has a son. 

“By the way, I must not forget to mention that 
Jack Nelson has married the widow, and his 
parents absolutely refuse to recognize her. Too 
bad, isn’t it ?” 

The letter fell from his hands and he turned 
sharply away \ dth a choking sob. 

The sound of a bell from a distant monastery, 
ringing for vespers, came softly over the water. 
It was followed by one nearer by. The waves 
sighed and moaned below. 

The sight of his grief and the solemnity of the 
hour stirred whatever womanliness there was in 
Ray’s character. Impulsive always, she sprang 
toward him and threw herself at his feet, bursting 
into a passion of tears. 

“Oh, don’t look so grieved, so heart-broken,” 
she cried, “and forgive me if you can. I did not 
mean to bring misery to any one when I acted so 
selfishly. I only thought of my own happiness, 
and now I am repaid for my wickedness, in trying 
to alleviate it by such means as I did. Listen : I 
may have done wrong in leaving home, in forcing 


A SOCIAL MLJTWJi. 


289 


myself upon you when you were so unwilling ; 
but it is God’s truth that I never have lived so 
good a life and had so much respect for myself as 
I have in the past few months, since I was mar- 
ried. You were kind and gentle to me, Lee ; I 
appreciated it. In fact, it was because my con- 
science, so long dumb, was troubling me for keep- 
ing anything from you that I confessed all this 
afternoon. I thought you would pardon me. And 
so you would have, had you loved me. But you 
don’t and never can care for me as I would wish 
you to, and that fact would blur all my future. 
So I see myself that it is better we should part. 
Only do not leave Let me be the one to go. 
Make that one little concession to my pride, and 
then I promise you shall never see me again. 
Have just a little patience, darling, and you shall 
never know another regret on my account.” . 

With these words she turned from him and dis- 
appeared into the house, leaving him alone with 
the glorious Italian night and his own thoughts. 


290 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE FUTURE WHICH IS SO FULL OF HOPE. 

October is generally considered to be one of 
the loveliest months of the year, and the day of 
which I am writing, was a typical “golden day.’’ 
The sun shone brightly, the birds sang sweetly, 
and the wind blew gently — so gently as to 
scarcely stir the short, fluffy locks of a beautiful 
girl, seated in a comfortable garden chair under 
a tree, in a country place on the Hudson. She 
was well wrapped up, in spite of the balminess of 
the air, and a second glance would convince j^ou 
that care would not be taken amiss with her, for 
she was very pale and delicate looking. In her 
hands she held a dainty piece of embroidery, 
but I am afraid this morning it got but little at- 
tention, as her eyes were bent far oftener upon 
the man who lay full length at her feet. 

Presently he spoke. 

“Are you sure you are warm enough?” he 
said. “I beg of you, do not expose yourself to 
the least danger. Just think if I were to lose 
you nowP 

“Not much fear, I imagine,” she replied. “I 
am really quite well, and it seems absurd for me 
to be so careful of myself. I never knew how 


A iiOCJAL METEOR, 


291 


nice it was to be of so much importance before. 
But,” laughingly, ^‘do you know I rather like 
dictating to people, and having my slightest wish, 
law.” 

‘‘Thank Heaven, you can express your wishes. 
Oh, Georgie, if you could only understand my 
feelings the night they told me you had recog- 
nized and asked for me.” 

“All before that seems like some ugly dream,” 
returned Georgie, with a little shiver. “But from 
the time I was told you were in the house I felt 
so different. And Lee,” very gravely, “are you 
sure now that I can make 3^ou happy ? It may be 
years before I shall be strong, and your patience 
will probably be tried very often.” 

“Can you not trust me, my dearest ? The de- 
light of my life will be in seeing you improve 
day by day, and month by month. Ah, sweet- 
heart, when one has suffered as' I have, one 
learns to value peace and love.” 

“We have both suffered,” she said, softly, “and 
through each other, though with no fault on the 
part of either. No,” as he started to speak, “not 
a word, ‘all is forgiven and forgotten,’ as they say 
in books. But let us not dwell upon that miser- 
able time ; let us cast dull care to the winds, and 
enjoy our youth while we can. By the by, did 
you order the ponies for this afternoon? You 
know Peter and his son will be here on the two 


292 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


o’clock train from the city, and I wisk to be at 
the station to welcome them. Only tkink bow 
strange it was, that I, in my delirium, should have 
been the first to announce that young man’s ex- 
istence to the w’orld in general, and really, I have 
gotten exceedingly fond of him. He was so at- 
tentive to me from the moment he reached home, 
and insisted upon carrying me up and down 
stairs as soon as I could be moved.” 

“But how did you prevail upon Peter to send 
for him ?” 

“I don’t know. But I rather think just about 
then, I could have had Barnum’s circus, if I had 
demanded it. Everyone seemed so anxious to 
please and gratify me ; old Peter especially so. 
So, when I begged him to send for Pierre, he ar- 
rived duly, and from that time I began to mend.” 

“If I only could have been with you !” 

“You were too busy making yourself agree- 
able to my worst enemy,” retorted Georgie, 
archly. Then, as a look of pain came into his 
face, “forgive me,” she said, “I did not intend to 
refer to that. But now, since we are on the sub- 
ject, tell me once more about that last night, 
won’t you ?” 

“And then do you promise never to bring up 
the subject again?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” taking her hand in his, “after she left 


A SOCIAL JHEJWB. 


293 


me on the balcony I think I must have stood 
there for hours, suffering such torture of mind 
as I had not believed it in my power to endure. 
They told me dinner was waiting, but I scarcely 
heard them. A man wished to see me on busi- 
ness, but I did not even answer. At last a 
clock struck eleven, and I started up, deciding 
to go to bed for a few hours’ rest. 

“Just at that moment Annette rushed out, 
wringing her hands, and uttering all sorts of 
exclamations in her native tongue. I asked her 
what the matter was, but as she was too excited 
to speak English, and I never could converse in 
French, I seemed in a fair way to remain in 
ignorance, until I had forced a little brandy down 
her throat. 

“Then she managed to gasp out her story. 
She said that her mistress had not gone to dinner 
and had even refused the slight refreshment she 
had brought to her room, thinking she might be 
hungry later on. 

“About ten o’clock she had gone into her 
boudoir to prepare her for bed, but she was not 
there. She went away and returned in half an 
hour, but still she did not appear. . Then, think- 
ing she might perhaps be ill, the girl rapped on 
her bedroom door. No answer. She turned the 
knob and went in, to find the chamber in perfect 
order, but vacant. Knowing that her mistress 


294 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


seldom went down stairs at night after going to 
her room, and remembering her hysterical man- 
ner npon entering it, she was thoroughly fright- 
ened, but she said nothing to anyone. Glancing 
hastily around for a clue to her disappearance, 
she discovered that a heavy Spanish lace shawl 
was missing from its usual place. Then, guided 
by her instiu'^t, the faithful creature left the 
house and followed the path which her mistress 
generally took when she walked. Half way 
down to the water’s edge she found her handker- 
chief, and a little farther on, her slipper. Frantic 
with apprehension then, she flew back to the 
house to me. 

“I did not, could not, believe Ray had com- 
mitted suicide, and so I tried to pacify the w^eep- 
ing girl. But it was no use. She knew madam 
was not feeling like herself all the evening; 
something serious had happened. Of course I 
immediately ordered all the men out, and joined 
in the search myself, but it was in vain ; we could 
not find her that night. The next morning I 
offered a reward for news of her dead or alive, 
and a few days afterward her body was brought 
to me by a couple of fishermen, who had come 
across it miles down the coast.” 

“Poor Ray!” murmured Georgie, shuddering. 

“Yes, poor girl!” said Lee ; “a dreadful ending 
for so brilliant a woman. And yet, knowing her, 


A SOCIAL METEOR, 


295 


one could hardly be very much surprised. A 
slave always to her own caprices, life had no 
longer any charm for her when she was denied the 
means of gratifying them.’’ 

“Sin usually finds us out, doesn’t it, Lee ?” 
asked Georgie, tritely. 

“So they tell us, dearest, and we will try to en- 
joy our happiness, even if it was purchased at her 
expense. Her cruelty to us was something in- 
credible. 

“Still I shall always cast a thought toward that 
lonely grave, and feel the deepest sorrow on her 
account, even in my gayest moments,” said 
Georgie, with a far-away look in her eyes. 

Lee kissed her tenderly. 

“Cheer up, little girl,” he replied; “let the past 
go, and try to live only in the present and future 
— the present which is so full of joy for us, the 
future which is so full of hope.” 

“And now, darling, when I plead for an early 
date for our marriage, you will not demand six 
months to prepare your mind and wardrobe, will 
you?” asked Lee, with a change of tone. 

“No,” she replied, smiling, “nor six weeks. I 
can get everj^thing I want in a very little while.” 

“So much the better,” uttered Lee, with a look 
of gratitude, “and please to remember that you 
cannot name a day too early to suit me, as I really 
feel as if I were growing very old. But come. 


296 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


there is Mrs. Clarke. I suppose luncheon is 
ready. Shall I carry in your wraps?” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A QUIET WEDDING. 

On the outskirts of a little village overlooking 
one of the most picturesque parts of the Hudson 
stands a church. It is small, of rough-hewn stone, 
and from an architectural point of view possesses, 
perhaps, not a single point of beauty. It is situ- 
ated at the base of a hill, and is approached by 
two roads, one almost directly from the top of the 
ascension and the other from the village beyond. 
In winter it is a gloomy enough location ; the 
wind whistles through the tall chestnut-trees and 
moans itself away in the valley below, or, assum- 
ing a frolicsome mood, lifts and tosses the snow 
about, heaping it in grave-like mounds all along 
the footpath. 

To be pitied, indeed, is the belated pedestrian 
who must take his lonely way in this direction, 
for weird, blood-curdling tales are told concerning 
it. Goblins and witches still hold their sway over 
the untutored rustic minds, and stories of the 
Headless Horseman, narrated by a credulous wit- 
ness, to this day seldom fail to cause teeth to chat- 
ter and a closer huddling around the genial hick- 
ory fires. , 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


297 


But in summer or fall there is no lovelier place 
on earth. The trees heavy with fruit, the fields 
of ripening grain stretching for acres like a yellow 
sea, the tiny brook singing as it hurries along 
over moss and pebbles, the glimpses of silver 
water through the thick foliage, and the old 
church, with its ivy-covered sides, make it a spot 
worthy of a painter’s brush. 

And it was here that Georgie and Lee decided 
to plight their troth. 

Not many people were asked to the ceremony, 
only the immediate relatives of both, and a few 
friends, as neither of them liked display, and for 
many reasons, they thought it best that the wed- 
ding should be as quiet as possible. 

It was by far the most important event which 
had ever taken place in that locality, and so, long 
before the appointed time the villagers began to 
gather around the door and to line the road on 
both sides. 

At Mrs. Clarke’s especial request, a florist from 
New York had been sent for to decorate the 
church, and the result was most satisfactory. 

Promptly at five o’clock the music, which con- 
sisted of a band of stringed instruments concealed 
in a bower of roses, struck their first notes, and 
shortly afterward the guests began to arrive. 

First came the village school children, headed 
by their teachers, who walked in with the dignity 


298 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


becoming their importance ; they were followed by 
such of the townspeople as had been honored by 
invitations, the guests from New York who had 
come by special train, and the party from High 
Park. 

Peter Persuade, faultlessly attired as usual, 
came rocking up the aisle escorting Mrs. Clarke, 
who was resplendent in jetted lace and diamonds. 

Mrs. Templeton, smiling and gay, entered with 
Pierre Persuade, a handsome young fellow in 
cadet uniform, while her grumpy old husband 
was assigned to Mrs. Wheatley. 

At last every eye was turned toward the door, 
and the bride entered leaning upon the arm of her 
Uncle Henry. V ery fair and sweet she appeared, 
in her shimmering satin and old lace. She was 
enveloped in tulle from head to foot, and as she 
laid her hand in that of her future husband she 
looked more like an angel than a woman, the 
country people declared. 

Just as the newly married couple turned to 
come down the altar steps, the setting sun, which 
had been hidden in the clouds all day, burst forth 
in all his glory, shining full upon Georgie’s face, 
which was considered by the simple folks, an ex- 
cellent augury for the future. 

The house party was a small but merry one, 
and the congratulations and good wishes bestowed 
upon Mr. and Mrs. Grant were very hearty. 


A SOCIAL METEOR. 


299 


Mrs. Clarke shed a few tears as her niece came 
d«)wn stairs and prepared for her journey, it 
seemed so hard to part with her ; but she dried 
her eyes when Peter told her that weeping at 
weddings was entirely out of date, and exceed- 
ingly bad form. 

Everybody, servants included, came out into the 
piazza to throw handfuls of rice and old slippers 
after the bride and groom as the carriage drove 
off. 

As they reached the Park gates Georgie leaned 
out of the window and kissed her hand. Then 
the horses made a sharp turn and they were lost 
to sight in a bend of the road. 


THE END. 


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No. 16 Put Asunder, by Bertha 31. Clay 50 


THE PRI3IR0SE SERIES combines the highest art of book- 
making with the best fiction that can be obtained. For sale by ali 
Booksellers and Newsdealers; or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 
STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 

P. O. Box 2734. 25-31 ROSE Street, New York. 





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